


Solitary

by Kuronrko98



Series: Breaking Furnace [2]
Category: Escape from Furnace - Alexander Gordon Smith
Genre: Alternate Universe, Amnesia, Blackmail, Body Horror, Brainwashing, Character Death, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Hallucinations, Nazi ideology, Self-Harm, do not copy to another site, maladaptive daydreaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-25 12:04:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17724854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kuronrko98/pseuds/Kuronrko98
Summary: Sawyer has been forced to forget their plans and Connor has to take their place as leader of the group. He doesn't know just how Sawyer's loyalties have changed, nor how much danger he'll be in when he finds them again. With the mysterious splinter in the In-Between meddling more and more, there's certainly more to this visit to Furnace than ever before.





	1. To Start on the Wrong Foot

????

Overlapping murmurs keep the hues of the In-Between in constant flux. I’ve overheard that the shimmering colors look like gasoline in the sun, something unsettling. After being here for so many months, I don’t believe that anymore.

Even in my current rush, I think they look more like an aurora. Beautiful. Amorphous. A natural part of the world rather than a stain.

 _“_ You know you can’t do anything from here.”

I turn a glare on the shade and let my viewpoint vanish. The fragment of Sawyer lounges several feet above the ground with a manic grin. Every selfish, confident, overpowered part of them and I’m _stuck_ with it.

“I’ll manage just fine without your help,” I mutter.

I turn away, distracted by another roadblock. Goddamn it, I pulled sentience away from the inmates to keep them from rioting when I’m distracted, but now I _need_ them to riot. What’s the point in base programming if they won’t respond?

The sliver behind me snorts.

“Yeah, because you’re definitely managing.”

I ignore it.

My viewpoint shifts to feature the river, ten inmates tossed by the water. I double check the numbers, and they should all make it to the ledge. I triple check that I can’t nudge the current to get rid of the interloper without taking any of the others with it.

Unfortunately, it has to stay for now.

Everything else should be able to run on the current settings for a few minutes.

“Try, try again, eh?”

“If I’m nearly as stubborn as you are, I’m not in danger of giving up any time soon.” I turn a pointed look at the splinter.

It shrugs.

“Nah, you’re more like Connor than any of us.” It spins lazily until its hair hangs past the line of the floor. “Complicating shit for no reason.”

I lift a hand and open a new window into the prison.

Sawyer still hasn’t left the lab, reliant on remote communication to find out what’s going on. They lift and replace papers, check readings on inactive devices, snap at whoever’s on the other line.

I try to push my hand through the window, but the divide resists my efforts. The window twists, colors meld together, and I don’t realize Sawyer has left the room until I pull back and the scene returns to normal. It takes less than a thought to send the window after them through the compound.

This was easier when I was angry.

“It would _be_ easy if—”

A screech cuts through the In-Between, dragging my attention back to the first window with the escaping inmates. One of them blinks red on the screen, and I wince. There was a 3.9% chance of that happening with this current path. There’s nothing I can do about it now.

It blinks out, and I turn back to Sawyer in the compound.

“I can do this on my own.”

The splinter swivels upright and floats closer. It’s hard to concentrate on infiltrating this universe with them in my space. They get close enough to touch the back of my head, and the window vanishes.

“You need to rest.”

“No.”

They sigh, the oil-slick waves of the In-Between far past the horizon before the sound has a chance to fade. They drift further away and start _humming_ again. The sound turns the In-between into another mosaic of color.

I huff and raise my hand.

One more time, then I’ll check the system again.

♥️♥️♥️ **C** ♥️♥️♥️

I barely have a chance to catch my breath, the icy water of the river still has my lungs hostage, before the asshole of the day drags me to my feet.

“This part’a the plan, Sawyer?” Gary growls, inches from my face.

I _try_ to take him seriously, but even with the very real knowledge that he’d kill me without a second thought I can’t muster more than a grimace. Which is the wrong response, based on our narrow ledge and his track record for threatening to push people off of things.

I snag Gary’s wrist, a precaution against _that_ particular possibility.

“I’ve never gotten us killed before, have I?” I try to imagine I’m talking to Sawyer instead of this piece of trash, and it almost works to get the companionable air I’m aiming for.

His eyes narrow and glint in the low light of the headlamps. His grip tightens, and I think he might actually do it. Might knock me back into the river even though he has no idea where we’re going.

Instead, he lets go with a snort.

“Better figure out another brilliant plan soon, ‘fore I change my mind.”

And I’m back on the list of useful people in Gary’s bubble of a life. Balance is restored. I can focus on the real problems here, if only for a few minutes.

The first one makes itself readily apparent when I step up to the biggest group and my heart lodges itself in my throat. Donovan, Zee, and Alex sit with their headlamps, surrounding Dominic. I hardly hear his muffled groans or the whispers of the three boys watching over him, too stuck on the _bone_ jutting from his shin.

_That wasn’t supposed to fucking happen._

“Who pulled him out of the water?” I ask before I can really think about it. I haven’t fallen apart yet. This isn’t the time for that to change.

He doesn’t respond to my voice at all, eyes screwed shut.

Donovan lifts a hand, just barely. “Almost missed him. Not sure how he’s gonna make it the rest of the way, though.”

The three of them shift to make room when I move to kneel beside his head.

I take care of the easy part first, gathering what concentration I have to stop the bleeding. I doubt even an active attack could make that impossible, and the ease with which I get it to work supports that idea.

My instincts tell me to try and heal his leg, but there’s no way that’s happening. Between how fucked we are right now and the idea that Dominic’s bone is _outside of his body,_ I likely would make it worse.

But I can trick his brain into forgetting it hurts at all.

I adjust until I can press my fingers against his temples. I hope this will work with how scattered I am. If I can just get him to the compound, Cross likes the look of a shiny new specimen more than he does a dead escape artist. Nectar might not be a good option for fixing this, but it’s all I have.

I take a cleansing breath and exhale those thoughts of the future.

This is going to hurt.

With that in mind, I close my eyes and feel for the rush of the In-Between. It comes easier than I expect, my awareness spread out through my fingers and connected with Dominic’s mind.

A spike of pain snaps the connection before I can do anything. White spots blot out my vision, but I grit my teeth and immediately dive back in.

 _Fuck_.

I can only stay in for a few seconds, barely long enough to scrape even a sliver of his pain away before I lose the connection again. This is going to take a while. I say so out loud, I think, before I try again. If anyone responds, I don’t hear them.

I don’t know how many times I have to fight against the disorienting, searing pain before it disappears completely on his end. Enough for the moisture on my forehead to be more sweat than river water. Enough that my own leg throbs when I let myself fall back.

Someone steadies me with a hand on my shoulder, but I’m too focused on regulating my breathing to even _begin_ figuring out who it might be. They keep me from losing sight of Dominic in my haze.

Dominic opens his eyes, and it’s worth it. He can’t say I never did anything for him. I jolt when he starts to sit up, but I’m still too out of it to stop him.

“Christ, I half-expected to wake up back home,” he says, his voice weak but calm. “Did everyone make it? Shouldn’t we— _what the fuck_.”

“Holy shit, what did you do to him?”

I rock forward onto my knees to get a grip on Dominic’s shoulder without acknowledging Gary. It might be a bad idea to ignore him, but I’ll deal with that fallout later. If I can’t keep Dominic from freaking out now, he’ll never—

Dominic snorts, and I pull my hand back. That’s not the reaction I expected.

“This is so—” he stops, taking a moment to let a giggle bubble through his words. I shift around to see him cover half his face, his other hand held limp in his lap. “It’s so _stupid_.”

This time, Zee asks what I did to him.

Dominic shakes his head, slides his hand down his face, and leans back with such a ridiculously wide grin I can’t help but let the relief finally break past all of my anxiety.

“It’s not worth the time it’d take to explain. It doesn’t hurt anymore, end of story.” He tilts his head to look at me. “Sawyer could have done it faster, though.”

For the first time since we’ve entered the universe—or ever, I guess—I aim a friendly mental jab at him. His eyes widen, and the mocking curve of his smile disappears. I don’t get a chance to do much more than grin before a sound from above shatters the moment.

A bark.

I don’t have to look back up to the hole we jumped through to know, but I do it anyway. The light from my lamp cuts through the inky darkness. A few other beams join it to catch the light of the dogs’ silver eyes through that hole.

“Time to go,” I say, halfway to my feet. “We don’t have much time.”

I already have my hand extended to him when Dominic reaches up to clasp it. I don’t bother telling him he won’t be able to walk on that leg. He’s from the Cube, same as me. With how well he took his leg being broken in the first place, I’m sure he knows how this works.

By the time we start for the edge of our safe haven, Dominic leaning heavily against my side, most of the others have already slipped back into the river to edge along the craggy walls. The only one showing no sign of doing so is Gary.

I sigh.

“What’s the hold up, Owens?” I call. I pause next to the edge—the drops flying from the rapids can’t make me more wet than nearly drowning in it already has. “We’re out of time.”

Gary turns the light of his headlamp on me. I can’t make out his face with the light shining in my eyes, all of his tells hidden in the glare.

Great.

“I didn’t sign up for this shit,” he growls, and I can almost visualize his scowl.

High yelps sound from the ceiling. We have _maybe_ two minutes before the dogs find their way to our ledge. I don’t look at Dominic when he tries pulling me ahead, focused on Gary instead.

“Stay here and you’re _signing up_ to be dog food.” I still don’t acknowledge Dominic’s panicked nudge at the edge of my mind—he’s getting bold—because I know that backing down from this bluff will make it an even worse idea than it already is. “I won’t stop you if that’s what you want.”

I brace myself in his silence, prepared to take a punch. His light turns back to the ceiling just in time for one of the dogs to fall through the hole we blasted in it.

And, like magic, Gary slips into the water to follow the others along the slick rock.

I finally turn my eyes on Dominic to find him watching the water with impossibly wide eyes. He doesn’t have his own light, so all he has to go on is the spinning shadow mine casts. I almost ask if he’s ready, but he nods before I can say anything.

“Don’t let go,” I remind him.

Desperate fingers curl into the fabric of my prison uniform behind my shoulder. Together, we lower ourselves into the water.

It was tough enough to coordinate our movements to get into the water, but trying to guide ourselves along the wall like some kind of extreme three legged race? The water tears at my back, and I have to cling to Dominic nearly as much as he does to me to keep from letting us both tumble to our deaths.

I try not to think about how dying means we get to go home. I try not to notice the slice of the rock shards against my fingers when I grip them too hard or the whines of the dogs behind us. I try not to listen to the strings of curses coming from Dominic, try not to wonder how long my ‘fix’ will really keep him from feeling the snapped bone in his leg or whether he’s started bleeding again.

This time, it would be impossible to miss the world stopping around me. The water becomes a buoying embrace rather than a relentless force of destruction. The way Dominic sits stiff as a board beside me sends a flare of panic through my chest.

“Don’t move.”

In the sudden silence, I find it hard to even _breathe_. Slowly, uncertain just how strict that order is, I swivel my head around to face the voice.

At least I sort of know what to expect this time. The sight of the copy of Sawyer standing atop a rapid further down with light radiating from their very being is almost expected. Well, them being here is expected.

I shouldn’t be surprised about the rest of it, though.

They don’t look at me, but their words couldn’t have been directed at anyone else. I watch them, their gaze directed at something I can’t see, until I can’t help but ask what they’re doing.

They finally look to me, but they’re too far away for me to even begin to read them. In the silence, though, their sigh echoes as if we’re back in the In-Between. As if this is nothing more than another illusion conjured up in my sleep.

The thought sticks anything else I might have said in my throat.

“You’re lucky you only keep moving when _I_ press pause. I’ve been watching different causal pathways for weeks.” They look back toward the wall, and I’m too worried about reproval to try to see what’s there. “They’re too busy with themself to worry about this course of events. Yours.”

They mutter some more under their breath, but I can’t make it out under a sharp crack of static that comes with it.

They stride forward to kneel next to the wall. I can’t see what they’re doing with so many of the others in the way. They lower further, until I can’t even see their mane of hair over the frozen figures.

“They hate themself, you know.”

 _Shit_.

I nearly jump out of my skin at the copy’s voice directly next to my ear. Dominic’s vice grip on my shoulder is likely the only thing keeping me from trying to climb the wall when I turn to find their face so _close_.

The static in their eyes is so clearly visible from here, their tired gaze boring into me. I don’t see any sign of distress or concern attached to the observation, not with them cross-legged on the surface of the water with their head cradled firmly in one of their hands.

Then again, Sawyer’s a master at hiding their emotions these days. I shouldn’t assume anything when it comes to an unknown version of them.

“That’s not new,” I answer, surprised at how loud my voice is. The idea of being in the In-Between—or, god-forbid, the _memories_ —returns with a churning in my gut. “They’re doing their best.”

They shake their head.

“You never should have come here,” they say. “You’d think seven times would have been enough for all of you to realize how this ends.”

The only word I can think of is _hologram_ for the image projected from their eyes. The whole group, dead on the floor of Furnace’s fortress at the island. The final stop on this journey. The home of the final boss.

“Furnace has been dead for years,” they continue when it flickers out again and I’m left staring in the empty space where the negative of that picture still blinks in my eyes. “Why did you come?”

I stare at them.

They’re right. Sawyer killed Furnace back when Dominic first came to the Cube. He’s not a threat—he’s a construct just like Gary and the rest of the inmates. I never wanted to come back here.

“I couldn’t let them be alone here,” I say, though my voice doesn’t quite come out level. “I promised that I wouldn’t leave them again.”

They snort.

“You realize you only came with a small piece of them, yeah?” They start to push themself up from the ‘ground.’ “The _real_ Jess is still out there tearing themself apart for locking you in here. _They_ know that coming here was a mistake, even if they won’t drain the universe.”

I’ve thought about that. The reality that none of this is real. Going home means being there with the real them again. They’re the one I told I would stay with them, after all. I never made any promises to splinters or anyone else in The Collective.

But.

“They asked me to be here. They _needed_ me to be here.” Even I hear the desperation, the rationalization, in my words, but I can’t afford to question it now. I’m _here_. I’m not throwing another life away just to run home. “I’m not going anywhere.”

They smile, and I would almost call it warm.

“You’d better get ready, then. This won’t be easy.”

It never is.

I expect them to leave immediately, but they just watch me in the silence of the paused river. Their brows furrow so slowly that I don’t really notice until there’s no mistaking their discomfort. When they look way, it’s down the river I still need to get through.

“It won’t be easy,” they repeat. “But keep your light pointed this way when I leave. It’ll make sense when it makes sense.”

That’s helpful.

I nod anyway, which they mirror.

They stand there without their gaze straying from whatever lies down the river that they’re concerned with, and I wonder why they’re reluctant to leave this time. They were so businesslike and cold the last time I saw them but now they seem nervous.

Time to break out the welcome wagon lines. Starting with one that, uh. I probably should have asked already.

“Do you have a name?” 

Their head snaps back around, and this time static jumps directly from their irises into the air. They shake their head, slow and—for the first time—hesitant.

“I’m not supposed to need a name.”

 _Supposed to_.

“Do you want one?”

They pause and glance around. Jesus, they look like someone’s gonna come up and kill them. Just for getting a name?

Then they nod, a little more sure now. They don’t say anything else, even to the point of only shaking their head again when I ask if they have any ideas. Man, if this’ll keep me from having to inch down the wall for a while I’m game. Let’s play, _name the splinter_.

“So, you’ve got this whole computer, video game, whatever shtick going on,” I muse, emboldened when they smile. Whether it’s an embarrassed reaction or something genuine, I’m not sure. “Maybe we can stick to your aesthetic.”

Their eyes turn to the ceiling, and I grin. They still don’t answer, though.

“Maybe, uh.” Crap, I don’t know anything about computers. “Data? Server? Java—no, that’s dumb, uh.”

Their awkward smile grows into a broad grin while I talk. I get more and more certain that all of the computer bullshit they have going on is all pseudo crap that comes out of Sawyer’s dumb virtual reality fantasies. That doesn’t make it less real to them, but it _does_ mean that they won’t know if I pull something out of my ass.

“How about Virtuoso?”

“That isn’t even close to being related to my ‘ _aesthetic_ ,’” they say immediately.

“No, like.” It’s really hard to make gestures when one of my hands is stuck wrapped around Dominic’s waist. “It’s a pun. Virtuoso as in virtuoso, but also because it almost sounds like virtual.”

“Oh!”

“Yeah.” Perfect. “It could be Virtue for short.”

All trace of their excitement vanishes, but they nod with a subtle jerk of their head.

“That would be fine. I don’t know if you’d really want to call me ‘Virtue,’ though.” They hesitate, then add, “Or if you’ll want to call me anything at all the next time you see me.”

“What—”

The smile they offer me is so obviously and painfully forced that I feel the phantom pinch in my own cheeks. They raise a hand in a wave.

“Remember. Light down the river,” they say.

And the silence shatters when their light disappears. I almost don’t manage to grab hold of the wall in time to keep the water from dragging me down, but I almost don’t care.

I swivel around to point my light downstream as soon as possible. I realize what they did before Gamzee even has a chance to call out when he’s swept up by the river. Several of the others respond in shock, shouting encouragement.

But they don’t know that it was staged, that he’s not getting out of this. What a brilliant, sneaky, _crazy_ _person_.

“Connor.”

I freeze when Dominic loosens his grip around my shoulder. When I look back to him, though I know I should follow Virtuoso’s advice to keep my light in place, my throat closes at the flinty determination he directs into the darkness where Gamzee must still be crashing down the river.

“No.” I try to hold tighter, but he lets himself become a dead weight. If he doesn’t cut it out soon, we’ll both be swept away. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

His gaze shifts to me, and this time I know I won’t be able to change his mind.

“It’s wishful thinking to think he’d ever die in an accident. I’m dead, anyway.”

He’s so calm. He should have been the one in charge. He hasn’t panicked once since we left the prison and _his leg is broken_.

But he’s right. I let go before I can reconsider.

I snap my head around to keep my light on him, then move it ahead to pick out Gamzee scrabbling at a rock in the middle of the river. I continue along the wall, much faster without Dominic to worry about, even if my focus is entirely on the events in the river.

 _It’ll make sense when it makes sense_.

It’s only a blink of an eye when Dominic slams into Gamzee, sending them both careening down the river. I don’t stop, but I can’t look away. They approach the division in the river, where we’ll all have to let the water take us under through the tunnels, and I only avert my eyes when they disappear beneath the rock.

A flutter against my consciousness nearly breaks my heart. I know before I even try that I can’t focus enough to reach back to him. He’s going to die in the cold and the dark with no one but Gamzee to keep him company.


	2. Anger Management is Not My Strong Suit

~-S-~

“Why hasn’t the siren shut off yet?” I demand before I’m even though the door.

“Ah, finally.” Cross drops Furnace’s phone on its cradle and rises from his desk. “What took you so long?”

I scowl and gesture back at the door.

“It’s a mess out there.”

He only answers with an ambiguous smile. I follow him into the attached security room, and the problem is readily apparent on the monitors.

A number of screens meant to show the chipping rooms sit with dark screens—no signal—the rest of them shrouded in dust and debris. Soldiers mill in what little is visible, but I can’t make out what they’re doing.

Destruction reigns through the rest of the prison, snapshot evidence of what I must have missed in my insistence to remain in the lab. Tools strewn through general population, lifeless bodies of inmates and a handful of our soldiers pulled into a pile in the center of the yard. The rest of the prisoners remain locked in their cells where they belong.

“What started this?” I raise a hand to brush one of the dust-choked screens as if that would clear it away. “A cave-in?”

“No.”

I turn back to find him taking a stack of files from a soldier. I hadn’t noticed him enter, and I hardly notice him leave when Cross hands over a number of the manila folders.

The temptation to flip through immediately is strong, but the sharp whine of static cuts through my skull before I can even try. Its shape oscillates like words, but it’s too garbled to understand.

I smack at the radio on my shirt collar, and the sound disappears.

“Is everything alright?” Cross asks, words lighter than their meaning.

When I actually turn my eyes on him rather than the cream of the folders, he watches me with such scrutiny I can’t even pretend to think his concern isn’t about my memories. At every distraction, every moment of introspection, he starts an interrogation.

I’m not in the mood to humor him today.

I shrug and start for the divide back into his main office. “Com’s acting up, nothing to worry about. What happened, then?”

He doesn’t answer right away. I pretend not to notice the tendrils of nectar pressed against my mind while he decides whether or not I’m lying. He leaves it alone when the sensation stops, so I assume he’s satisfied.

“A group of inmates escaped,” he says instead when we’ve settled on either side of his desk. “ _You_ will be responsible for—”

Hang on.

“ _What?_ ” I mentally kick myself for interrupting him, but there’s no taking it back now. “They actually got out?”

He spreads his hands— _what can you do_ —and taps his stack of his files.

“Ten of them. You’ll oversee five. Tell me where you want them before we round them up.”   

He stands, taking his own files with him, and leaves me to it.

I finally drop my gaze down to the folders he gave me and spread them out. They’re already numbered as specimen. At first sight, two of them are thin, likely nothing but the legal documentation they came in with. The other three, well worn and thick with additional paperwork.

I start with the thin ones, separating them from the others.

Alex Sawyer, a kid we chose for conversion before he even came to the prison. He’s small, scrawny, and smarter than he looks if he was able to get away with theft for so long. He’s only been here a couple months, so I doubt he’d take to the nectar very well so soon. The other, Zee Hatcher, came in the same day. Stole enough cars that no one thought twice about his guilt when our soldiers framed him in a hit and run.

We’ll see how long they last in solitary before they beg for forgiveness. _Then_ , we’ll turn them over to the wheezers. I lift a pen from the other side of Cross’s desk to scrawl a note in the corner of each folder.

The first of the older files, Kevin Arnold. We’ve watched him on the monitors, he rules—ruled—over one of the larger factions in the prison. He’s stayed out of trouble since I’ve returned, but if half of the anger I think he has is real I doubt he’ll fight against the nectar very hard.

Then, Dominic Tchaikovsky. All of these infractions have stemmed from protecting others, if these reports are right. There’s no mention in the file on why he’s here, what crime he committed, but it won’t matter to any of us before long. He’ll go directly to the nectar as well.

The final folder isn’t labelled, though it’s just as full as Tchaikovsky’s.

I flinch at another blast of static from my com. It doesn’t stop when I hit the radio itself, so I rip the feed from my ear. With the sound gone, I flip the folder open and freeze.

The file doesn’t have a mugshot, just a list of prisoner information on top of a stack of disciplinary forms. I go to read the first, but something shorts out before I can register more than the name.

The nectar doesn’t give me any warning before it explodes into action in my blood, a reaction to the roaring _anger_ in my skull. I can’t think through it, not through the searing hate freezing me in place or the nectar shrieking at me to act.

I only vaguely hear the chair hit the floor when I jerk to my feet. I need to get this energy out, do _anything_ to keep from melting down. I don’t know who _Connor Sawyer_ is, but I’d like to see him die in the dark of solitary confinement while his friends become the very things he’s running from.

 _“_ _P͢҉̸̡͡e̢͘r͜͞͝r̸҉y̵̷̨_ _.”_

The word, almost indecipherable in the static, echoes over itself. I reach up to answer the com, but it’s.

Not in my ear.

The voice didn’t come from my radio.

I clench my jaw and shake my head, continuing forward. I need to go fight something. Run through a testing chamber maybe, especially if I’m hearing things. It’s not unheard of, I’m probably not settled with the nectar yet. Just ignore it.

It’ll go away.

The static comes, and I pinpoint it to the open space over my left shoulder. The air is empty, but that doesn’t make the disembodied voice any less concerning.

“ _I҉͏̢̛͝'̶͜͏͝҉m̨͢ ̴̴n̡͟o̡͝͡t̶̢̢̛͡ ̧̡͘͢͜g͘͟o̸̴͘i̴͢͠͏n̴̢̕g̢̡̛͞ ҉a͏̸̶ņ̕͠y͡҉͢w̸̶͝͏h̸͝e҉ŗ̡ę̷͜͏͜.̡͠_ ”

♥️♥️♥️ **C** ♥️♥️♥️

I’m not sure how long I’ve been staring at the river like this. Our group, now down to eight, whispers furiously behind me. I hope they’re trying to decide whether they should leave without me. I’d catch up. I’d be fine.

I just need a few more minutes.

 _Everything will be fine in just a minute_.

I close my eyes, unwilling to let the damn tears come back. Logically, I know he’s fine. He’s probably back in the Cube right now. Maybe getting a cup of coffee in the Lounge. Visiting Jay.

It’s just.

I remember what it’s like to die. The cold, the emptiness. The lingering thought that everything’s wrong. The empty space between the actual loss of life and waking back up wherever the Cube decides to leave you.

I shake my head against the bile in my throat.

“I ain’t waiting no more.”

I force my eyes to open, my limbs to move. If I let Gary start a fight now that we’re safe at the entrance to the tunnels, I doubt even half of us will make it to the compound.

“Chill out, Owens,” I mutter.

When I turn back, the three I actually trust stand between Gary and the path forward. Kevin, Monty, and Jimmy hang back, the former on his own while the other two huddle fairly close together. I wanted to believe Sawyer when they said that Jimmy and Monty were really ours this time, but I can’t anymore. They haven’t spoken a word since the escape began, and their eyes have that empty glaze that most of the other inmates have taken on.

What a group.

Gary snaps round to face me, and I’m not surprised to find him furious. It’d be a real shock if he _wasn’t._

Why can’t he be just as Xanax’d as the rest of the inmates?

“Gonna die down here, chief. Hope you’re proud, wiping us out single-handed,” he snarls.

There’s an instant.

A single instant.

I think about knocking him back into the river. With the my fear dulled by emptiness, I know I could draw on the power of the Cube and the In-Between to help me. We could find another way out of here.

Hell, with _this_ quality of focus I could probably get the rest of us to the surface _now_.

But the moment passes and I brush past him to join Alex, Zee, and Donovan at the start of our path. We have to do this right. We have to go get Sawyer, get the power we need to actually be a match for any of the monsters Furnace can throw at us.

“We’ll never get out with that attitude,” I answer. I aim the barest of smiles at my friends rather than at Gary, and we pick our way ahead. I remain between the three of them and Gary, if only to keep anyone else from ending up on the receiving end of his anger.

He grumbles but doesn’t argue it further.

The ledge, the wall, everything shines in the light of our headlamps. At first, I think it’s just water from below, but touching the surface of the wall to find balance tells me otherwise. The clear slime turns my stomach, and I resolve to avoid touching it as much as I can.

We’ve been inching forward for a while, though likely not as long as I think, when Zee’s light shifts and he looks over his shoulder at me.

“You probably don’t want to talk about it, but.” He pauses, turning facing forward again, light on the ground in front of his feet. “What was Dominic thinking? There’s no way he could have helped with that leg.”

_Helped?_

I shake my head, very aware of how cynical my laugh sounds. “He wasn’t trying to save Gamzee.”

He stops dead at that, and more than one voice behind me groans when I follow suit. He only stays in place for a few seconds, but it’s long enough for Gary to shove me from behind before I can get myself moving again.

“I see.”

No one says anything after that.

~-S-~

I stare at the ceiling of the testing chamber. Water laps at my suit, but I don’t care. The aftermath of such a violent response from the nectar requires at least a small amount of rest. I think nearly drowning myself calls for a couple minutes to just.

Sit here.

The rigid stone beneath my head does nothing for the out-of-place pounding behind my eyes. Even in the dark of the chamber, it twinges with every move. Of course, it might have something to do with—

_“Y̷̡͝҉ǫ̕u҉̛͟'̶͏̕r̸͝e̴ ̢̡̧͘͟t͏̶̢͠o͏̕͢o̢̕ ҉̶͝ş͏̛t̷͜i̡҉҉f̨͜͞͝f̨͟͝.̢̛”_

_That_.

I cover my face with my hands and hope the voice will go away soon. I have a history with fighting the nectar. I know that if I bring this up to Cross, he’ll have me in a screening room for hours.

I have too much work to do to waste that much time over a voice that’s probably going to disappear on its own. I hope.

_“I͜f̸̡̛͘ ̴͟͜y͏̡͡ơ̷̧͘͞u̵̴͝͏ ̷̢s͜͝a̴̛͘͡y̸҉̧ ͘͢ş͢͝͝o̶̡̕.̶̢”_

I flinch. The static prods the spiking ache in my head.

I’d better get back before Cross comes looking for me. I roll onto my hands and knees, suddenly too aware of how the water streaming from the tunnels below me seeps into my clothes. The nectar threatens to rush back to fuel my irritation, so I heave myself to my feet and shake my hands out.

With each outward flick of my hands, a portion of the water vanishes from my person. By the time I settle my arms at my sides and start for the single door out of the testing chambers, my suit is dry once more.

The perks to existing in a world of make-believe.


	3. The Face of the Resistance

♥️♥️♥️ **C** ♥️♥️♥️

I don’t remember this hurting so much.

None of it hurt back then.

Now, though, the stone beneath me tears my knees and forearms. The walls of the tunnel, convex and unyielding, prevent my lungs from filling completely. I know I can get through this, I know I’m capable, but Sawyer’s imagination has gotten better. They definitely aren’t a child anymore. They understand that none of this could possibly be easy.

Which is great for them, but I can’t fucking breathe.

I catch sight of the final obstacle. This one will decide whether we make it or not. A blade of rock hangs from the ceiling of the tunnel to guard the last stretch. I think Alex described it as a guillotine in the original story. It’s as accurate as anything else, I suppose. That’s not as much of a problem as the upturn to the tunnel afterward that might make it impossible to go on.

I try not to think about the possibility of not fitting as I squirm forward. If only to distract myself from the deadly edge of the blockage against my skull, I muse that Sawyer wouldn’t have made it through this. They’d have freaked out before we ever got to this part.

It might have been before we even made it to the river. I love them to death, but the one place they can’t seem to leave alone just happens to be underground. Scared of the dark, scared of the caves, scared of _hei_ —

_Fuck._

“You good?”

Alex’s voice remains muffled in the dead air of the tunnel, but I zero in on _him_ instead of the sudden pain in my lower back. I remain as still as possible and take stock on how fucked I am so I can answer.

I’m almost through. The angle I’m wedged in isn’t comfortable at all, but I don’t think I’m stuck. I hope that crack I felt was just my joints popping. Yeah, we’ll go with that in the interests of not panicking and hopefully getting the hell out of here.

“Yeah.” I cringe at the hiss in my voice, and I can’t quite unclench my jaw while I’m talking. “Yeah, I’m fine. Y’all okay back there?”

“‘Y’all?’” Zee repeats, even quieter than Alex in his distance. “Aren’t you from Oregon?”

“Are you really nitpicking my fucking dialect when I can’t move?” This time I don’t even try to smooth my voice out or stop the half-hysterical laugh that comes with it. “Take it up with Sawyer. Better yet, take it up with the country obsessed, neglectful assholes that let someone get so fucked in the head they’d go through _this shit—_ ”

Someone—Alex, the only person who _could_ since he’s right behind me—pinches the back of my leg and I shut the hell up.

“We’re good. Just get out of the way.”

I take a deep breath. Zee’s just trying to lighten the mood. I know that.

I inch forward.

When my back doesn’t spasm, when I can still feel my legs, when I manage to drag myself to the top of the incline without losing anything but my dignity and a good amount of sanity, I nearly weep in relief. I hug the top of the mound of stone while the pain in my back fades, my feet still braced against this side of the makeshift guillotine.

I don’t move until Alex laughs behind me and feel a smack against my ankle. I heave my exhausted body up and sit at the edge of the tunnel’s end. My beam of light reveals the floor a good ways down. The wall between here and there’s fairly inclined, so we’re not gonna die trying to get down.

I look back to see Alex struggling significantly less than I did. He’s small, already skinny before coming to the near-starvation Furnace offers its inmates. I didn’t expect him to have trouble.

He takes my hand up, and I shift to the side to let him get past. I catch him by the wrist before he can slide down the hill, though.

“You need to pull Gary out,” I mutter. I hope my voice is low enough, Zee’s struggles below loud enough to keep the idiot in question from hearing me. “So I can get the others out without them getting hurt.”

“What do you—” He cuts off, snapping around to look back at the space they’ll all need to squeeze through.

Jimmy would be able to fit through that block. Monty, Kevin, and Donovan, though? _I_ could have hurt myself and I’m smaller than two of them by a long shot.

Alex doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t make any move to leave our perch. He just leans back down with me to help Zee through the hard part.

The nervous glance the shorter boy directs at me before sliding down the hill is like a kick to the teeth. I swear I wasn’t mad at him, it was the damn tunnel, but he’s still gone before I find anything to say. I’ll likely get an earful from Sawyer about that particular outburst later. If not for the things I said, then simply for snapping at Zee.

“Crap—”

Alex falls backwards and Gary shoots out of the tunnel. It knocks them both down the hill. I stay at the top of the mound long enough to make sure they’re both moving before I delve back into the tunnel myself.

Kevin already has his head forced through the gap under the blade, cursing quietly. I can see from here, his shoulders won’t fit through.

“Back up, idiot,” I mutter, reaching out to press a hand against the stone.

His head disappears.

I tense my hand.

The bottom half of the blockage shatters, the loose rocks cluttering the floor of the tunnel. It probably won’t be fun to shuffle through that, but it’s not unyielding anymore.

Kevin mutters something that doesn’t sound all that grateful, but I still withdraw. They should be able to get down here soon.

“He’s not gonna last long like this,” Alex says in a low voice when I skid to a stop at the bottom of the hill.

Gary sways on his feet not too far away, his light unsteady. I know that coming out of the tunnel does something to his body—I’ve never had an occasion to find out _what_ —and the blood streaking the lower half of his face confirms this run isn’t an exception.

“We’re still okay on the timeline,” I answer eventually, my light making little different in the shadowy maze of stalagmites dotting the cavern. “We’ll go when—”

“Nice trick, Sawyer.” Kevin claps me on the back, more friendly than I ever want him to address me again.

“Easier than I remember,” Donovan calls from the top of the hill. With the sound of sliding gravel in the background, I focus back in on the cavern itself.

The sounds in the distance could easily be written off as falling rocks or dripping water. Bats, maybe, but we know better. We shouldn’t still be here, not with Gary in the condition he is or the very real possibility of getting trapped here. Monty and Jimmy just need another minute.

I’m not losing anyone else.

“That’s everyone,” Alex says somewhere behind me, quieter than before. He must have heard them, too.

“Okay.” I turn back to the group and count everyone, to be sure. I only relax when all eight of us are here. “Let’s go.”

~-S-~

_“L͘͜͡i̵e̷̷s̷͘͝.”_

I try not to react to the voice. I keep my gaze directly on Cross, I listen to him explain how he could possibly know where the inmates will show up. Still, I’m not sure if I really hear him.

It all makes sense when he says it.

The rats are reacting to their presence. They’re coming from the south, so he has soldiers set up there. He’ll wait with them while I set up for the five inmates we’ll put directly on the nectar.

_“C̛r̵̵͝͠͞o̢͡͠͞s͘s͏͞ ̧͡k͞҉n̵̴̡e̡̛w̷̧͡.̴̢̨͠”_

I stiffen, and this time Cross falls silent.

I only notice because a tendril of nectar sweeps around the edges of my mind when he does. The feeling of someone standing over my shoulder vanishes, and I hope the voice won’t come back. I don’t think Cross is going to let this go.

“Is everything alright?” he asks, the same phrase and tone as always. It’s fucking obnoxious.

I do have _something_ to offer him, though.

“I don’t know if I can oversee—” I almost say the name, but a burst of nectar colors the edges of my vision black. “Number 209. The nectar reacted badly when I read his file.”

To my surprise, Cross grins.

“ _That_ , we can address when we have the escaped prisoners secured.” He rises from his chair. “Get to the infirmary. You should have time to prepare enough nectar for our _guests_.”

The voice returns out of nowhere with a snort that echoes back and forth through my head. I manage not to flinch, though, so that’s a plus.

 _“H͘̕͜ơ̴̶̢w̨͟͝͡—̴̨̨”_ A burst of static nearly smothers the next word, and it comes out with a much different inflection. _“—̵҉͢ţ̸h͢҉̴e̶̷at̕r͟͡i҉c̵al.̡͢”_

At least I can agree with that.

He sweeps out of the room before I get a chance to say anything. By the time I manage to follow him out, he’s nowhere to be seen, so I start for the infirmary.

The voice, so close to my ear I nearly can’t keep from looking, crackles again.

_“W҉͏͠h͏a̴͡t̢̢ ͝͞d͠ơ̧ ͜y̵̡ǫ͢ư̢ ͘re̶m͞e̛͜͝m̵̷͟b͢e̵̕r͢͝ ̕f͏r͝ơ͟m̶ ̶͘͠yo͡ur̷̕ ͞t͝i̡͝me͢ ̛͢a̢͘w̴͠a͏͡y͟?”_

♥️♥️♥️ **C** ♥️♥️♥️

We manage to walk in peace for longer than I expect. I can almost convince myself that we’re exploring the caves back home. The idea that Scorpix could appear to pull us back to the Cube at any moment soothes my nerves.

Which means I’m too comfortable when those distant sounds pause. The rats know we’re here.

I don’t know how much further we have to go. I don’t know how many rats there are. I don’t know exactly which way we need to go, not in this dark. I don’t even know if Simon bothered to make sure we make it through this time.

I barely consider the possible consequences before I throw my hand above my head. The intent flows along my skin like water, then up into the air. Four orbs balloon from my fingers and stick in the cavern above us.

I’m not sure if the mutters of surprise are about the sudden light or too-many rats weaving between the stalagmites. Strangely, though, they aren’t headed in our direction.

I remove my hard hat and discard it on the ground. I don’t need it anymore.

A hoard of twisted children with nectar black veins staining their skin a spotty gray flow the same way we’re going. Many of them pause to screech at the new lights, but the sound of gunshots up ahead is enough of an explanation. It’s enough, and it almost pulls a laugh out of me.

Cross tried to wait for us before the rats could find us.

Why would they care about a group of pitiful scraps of meat when the blacksuits are right there? Great big bags of nectar gathered in a cavern. Good plan in theory, not so great in practice.

Still, the sound of struggle doesn’t last long.

I wonder where Sawyer is right now? Waiting with the warden? Biding their time in the lab? Could they already have fled to join Simon in the tunnels?

God, I hope so.

The lights above us begin to fade when I catch sight of the opening in the wall all of the rats must have fled through. The brighter light streaming through the opening almost looks like the sun, though only three of us would be liable to believe it really is.

Gary, in whatever stupor his injuries have landed him, immediately streaks ahead of the group. No one tries to stop him. We watch him disappear into the light.

I stop a good distance away from the end of our trek through the caves. The others don’t, though.

The feeling of playing delivery boy for the formula that works finally gets to fall away. We only have a few more yards and I won’t be able to rely on the past anymore. I can’t predict Cross like I can the tunnels.

What if he decides to just end it now?

“Where’s _Sawyer?_ ”

I sigh at the warden’s snarl and force myself to continue around the corner and into the too-bright light. Eyes shaded against the spotlights, I join the jolly crew in the chamber connecting the prison compound to the tunnels.

I stop again just inside, eyes on the small group huddled at the warden’s feet. Six of them. Gary’s already gone, swept into the infirmary like clockwork, though the hoard of blacksuits lining the walls of the cave leave no chink in the armor.

All evidence there was a fight with the rats has vanished, as well, save for pools of nectar dotting the floor.

“Ah, here he is.” Cross clasps his hands together. A mockery of pride hides in his shark’s grin. “Can’t very well lose our guest of honor, can we?”

I don’t know if this apathy is another new effect of being half of who I was or if it’s from Sawyer’s preoccupation. Maybe two years in the prison has finally caught up with me. I just don’t care as much as I should when I don’t find Sawyer waiting in the chamber. I’d know if they were dead. The worst possibility is solitary, and they can run with us if that’s the case. I can’t worry about them.

The anger rising at Cross’s commentary is a little harder to swallow down.

“Impressive, as ever. It would have been more so, had you arrived with your full entourage, but we can’t have everything.” He uses the same lines against Sawyer. They’re insecure about how willing they are to let people die.

Me? Brand new head on my shoulders. Even with irritation and fear coursing through my veins, I manage to keep my response to a mere shrug.

Without his gaze or his grin wavering, he raises a hand. A number of blacksuits step forward to pull everyone to their feet.

Well. Not everyone. Cross stops a suit trying to grab Monty and Jimmy.

The others, however, turn confused and curious eyes on me as they’re pulled through a tunnel up ahead. I try a smile that I hope is reassuring, but I’m not sure how well it transfers. Time to see how he’s going to play it, and I’m nowhere close to being sure of his plans.

If Cross decides to kill me here, we’re fucked.

But he’s not even looking at me. While the rest of the suits file out—leaving me alone with the warden—he stoops to inspect the two unresponsive kids.

“Montgomery Earl,” he says. Monty doesn’t even look up. “All of this mess, just because you were assigned to the wrong part of the prison.”

“Not because you turned him in the first place?” I mutter.

He barks a laugh, the sound a punch to my stomach.

His hand shoots forward, though it looks _wrong_. I realize, once both Monty and Jimmy both crumple lifeless in a heap on the floor, that it’s a glittering blade of nectar. He straightens up as though he does this every day.

The shining flecks of purple in the blade wink at me as it retracts under his skin. He has the violet nectar.

He finally looks at me.

The air changes the instant the indignation, anger, _hate_ , catches up with the tumble of my thoughts. He just _killed_ them. Looked at them and decided they wouldn’t be worth it. Decided to cut them down before they even got a chance to fight. Just because Monty told Alex not to forget his name in the first iteration of this universe.

I don’t get a chance to say anything with Cross suddenly blocked out by Virtuoso inches in front of me. This close up in the light, I realize what makes them look wrong compared to Sawyer.

A spark from their eyes touches my cheek and a dense fog in my head locks my limbs and keeps my brain from working. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out.

“I thought I would be too late.”

They lean forward and peer into my eyes. I can’t find the words to respond through the cotton they filled my head with. After a few seconds, they sigh and relax marginally.

“I was told you might not appreciate this.” They let go of my arms and take a step back. “It should keep you from killing me in the meantime, though, so we’ll see who wins that argument when I get back.”

I still can’t say anything. Can’t put together a single real thought. I struggle to lift the fog, but it won’t budge.

“I’ll level with you since I have you here. Since I can’t let this scene progress until your brain starts working again, hm?” They reach forward to push my hair out of my face. Their hand lingers on the side of my head. “You need to keep your mouth shut when Cross provokes you, Connor.

“You’re a more disposable version of Sawyer as far as he’s concerned. It’s a lot of pressure, I know. I doubt you’ll see an alternative either once you two have your big reunion.”

They smile, and I catch a wisp of a thought. Too little, too late, I can’t comprehend what it was.

“But we all want to see Cross dead.”

 _Cross_.

The fog breaks for an instant and it comes back marginally lighter. It must show somewhere in my face because Virtuoso drops their hand.

“Ah. There you are.”

Because it’s them, and because I’m still lagging behind in the whirlwind of my head, I open my mouth to address the matter at hand. The most pressing idea at the front of my brain. The absolute, most important thing, I can think of.

“You don’t have freckles.”

They blink at me.

Yes.

Not ‘you knew Dominic would die’—even though I’m _so_ beyond being mad at them about that. Not ‘Monty and Jimmy are _dead_.’ Not ‘who are you, really?’

They don’t have freckles. But the next time I blink, they do.

I couldn’t tell you if they’re all in the right places, but the subtle wrongness is nearly gone. I’ll hold my tongue about the absence of bags under their eyes. Though I have a feeling it’ll be pretty easy to tell the two apart down here, I need all the help I can get.

“Better?”

I nod, and they rub a hand over their face. I wonder if changing their appearance feels weird. Before they can take charge of the conversation again or blip out of existence, I take another shot.

“Is Sawyer okay?”

They hesitate, and my heart stutters in my chest. I feel like I’m asking this question all the damn time, and no one can give me a straight answer. Jay told me I should ask them myself. The blacksuits told me not to worry about it at all. Virtuoso says—

“ _They’d_ say they’re fine.” They shrug and cross their arms. “But they’ve always been good at ignoring the truth.”

Not dying, then.

“Especially when nectar’s involved and they have a dirty little enabler who won’t tell them when their ideas are terrible.”

Their pointed look—rude—is immediately overtaken by a small and tired smile.

“I guess you’re working hard, then?” I ask after a moment of awkward silence.

They shrug again.

“When you have more time to waste thinking about me than worrying about Cross, maybe I’ll show you.” They pause with a thoughtful tilt to their head. “The In-Between seems to like you well enough, at least.”

They shift to the side and I catch sight of the whole reason they’re here. The reason they had to come and stuff my head full of emptiness. Cross and the corpses laying at his feet.

Frozen in time, he seems to welcome any attempt on his life I might make. That damn smile stays on his face, and I nearly forget about Virtuoso being here. I take a step forward, but they still me with a tight grip on my arm.

“Remember.” They turn my head back toward them with their other hand. “Whatever you do, don’t give him a reason to kill you.”

“What’s keeping him from killing me right now?” I hiss.

They smile, and a diffusion of sadness seeps through my skin from their hands.

“He’s a cruel man, Connor.” They let go of me and step away. “It would be too kind to keep you and Sawyer from meeting again in this universe.”

_There’s something wrong with Sawyer._

I would ask, but something tells me this meeting is as good as over. Sure enough, they turn to glare at Cross while they instruct me to get in the exact place I was when they paused time. It takes a few minutes, some prodding, and some cross words, but they end up satisfied by my hunched shoulders and balled fists.

They smile when they stop to knock my hair back into my face. I hadn’t even realized that it normally rests there, or that my hair has gotten so damn long.

“No matter how mad you might be,” they say eventually. “I promise that there was nothing alive in those two. Every word they said, everything they ever did outside of base processing, was a conscious decision on my part.”

“Why make Sawyer think they were part of the group? Isn’t that a little _cruel?_ ” It comes out testier than I mean, my eyes drifting back to their bodies.

They purse their lips.

“They needed an audience or they’d explode.”

They gesture for me to return my focus to Cross, so I do.

And him settling on his feet is apparently the only warning I get about time being real again. It’s physically painful not to look at where Virtuoso was just instants ago, but I manage to keep a glare leveled as close to Cross’s eyes as is possible.

“Is there a problem, _Sawyer?_ ” His grin morphs into a sneer on the last word.

After a minute to breathe, I don’t think I’m in danger of trying to kill him here and now. He seems to expect it of me, so it’s almost satisfying when I can swallow most of my anger down. Even more satisfying when I can spit out a direct lie without my voice shaking.

“They might get upset about losing ornaments—I’m not that sentimental.” I manage a smile. I hope it’s as cold as I want it to be. “They were empty before you got to them and you know it.”

He laughs again, and this time it echoes in the cavern. It’s just us. He turns away and I follow without prompting.

If Virtuoso’s worried enough to warn me so soon after letting Dominic die, the danger must be more real than I thought. I figured he wouldn’t actually kill me for no reason, but that’s what he’s really looking for isn’t it?

A reason.

So I follow and keep my mouth shut when he starts talking again.

“I knew you’d changed since the last time we met.” He says conversationally, as if he doesn’t know I want him dead. “For the better, it seems. That anger will do you well here.”

I don’t answer.

The old line of anger making the nectar-borne brainwashing stronger is still alive and well. Even after being defeated seven times (eight, if you include the original books), he thinks he’s the strong one here. Even if Sawyer and I fall through the cracks, Alex has beaten him before without extra help.

He’s far too confident.

“This prison has had some changes as well. You’ll grow intimately familiar with them when you’ve done your time in solitary.”

We pass by the infirmary, and my breath catches in my throat at the crimson light streaming through the slats. Even so, I look on instinct to see a pair of narrowed eyes trained on me. They’re darker than I remember.

Even on a stool, I can tell they’ve grown taller. Nectar can do that, even the violet stuff they favor. That, with their eyes and the sleek pink hair pulled into a high bun, I almost don’t recognize them. It’s not the first time a universe has changed what they look like. It seems their face is the only thing that hasn’t changed.

The feeling of being watched follows even after they fall out of my sight.

Cross chuckles as we round a corner and the lids of the steel cells come into view.

“Plenty of changes.”

I can’t keep up with all of the ways my mind’s running. Sawyer said something in the very beginning about him being _terrifyingly_ friendly. Cheerful. Almost kind.

I watched him murder Monty and Jimmy in front of my eyes, now he’s escorting me personally to my cell. From 60 to 0 in a second, from his perspective. Like there’s any reason I might change sides if he acts this way.

Though, isn’t that what he thinks happened with Sawyer? He gave them the option, handed the nectar right to them, and they chose him over the rest of us? He knows how loyal I am to them.

I don’t have the balls to try bluffing my way in and out of his twisted family, though. Sawyer’s already there. They’ve always _been_ there.

This really is just the latest example of that.

Maybe I am an enabler. As long as it’s not me, right?

I sigh under the clatter of the cell opening. Cross doesn’t acknowledge it if he even heard it. He inclines his head toward the hole at my feet, and I don’t wait to be told again.

It’s cold and dark down here, and I only catch a glimpse of his standard grin before the lid slams shut. I stare at the ceiling until the negative of it fades into nothing. Thank god I’m not scared of the dark.


	4. Loathing!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the voice's dialogue is hard to read, but. Consider what reading it is like and that's the visual equivalent of trying to hear it. For bonus points, don't try rereading it for comprehension, and that's Sawyer pretending to understand what the fuck is being said.

~-S-~

“If I try shoving nectar in him right now, his body won’t be able to handle it,” I hiss without looking up.

I know just enough about real biology to know that he’s lucky he survived this far. If Cross will leave me alone long enough to actually find where the problem is, I’ll be able to fix it. Nectar would heal him, but at what cost?

Healing was never my job.

 _“Who̵̷͠_ _k͝͠͏k͞͝k͠͏̴k͞҉̢ t̢h͢e̶̷n̵̛?̴”_

“If you don’t, _he will die._ ”

Cross continues piling the bags of nectar on the edge of the stretcher. I’m glad, because it keeps him from responding to my glare at the air over my left shoulder.

I back off. He takes over and hooks an IV to each of the boy’s arms. With a scowl, I watch the darkness flow through the tubes into the boy’s veins.

Immediately, the boy tenses, wrists taut against the leather bindings. His eyes open, wild, and he cries out. Then, he falls limp once again, as if he’d never moved. I flick a glance at Cross, surprised to find a pleased grin on his face. He has to know that the most we’ll ever get out of this kid is an offering for Father.

Even so, it really isn’t my call. He’s the boss here, it’s his prison, if he wants to pull that kind of authority. I turn away to return to the infirmary. I should make sure the other two are set up before I turn in for the night.

“Perry,” Cross calls.

I stop.

I turn, back straight, eyes on the warden. If he’s going to treat me like a subordinate, I may as well give him the full satisfaction. He doesn’t look at me, eyes on another bag of nectar instead.

“We have a change of plans. Focus on the inmates in solitary for now. I have the infirmary handled.”

_“W̶͞h̕͡y͢?͘͟͢”_

I raise an eyebrow, but otherwise remain impassive. I almost turn away again, thinking myself dismissed. Before I can move, however, he continues.

“Seeing as you have a personal interest in the progress of 209, you will choose the group’s full punishment.” He finally looks up, triumph in his eyes. “I will give you your team tomorrow.”

“ _Good._ ”

It’s disarming to hear the voice agreeing with me, so I think the command over critically. A peace offering? A punishment? For what? I eye him suspiciously, and I notice a speculative gleam cross his eyes.

There’s more to this.

It really isn’t the time to argue with him, though. This is what I wanted.

I nod and turn my back on him. “Thank you, Cross.”

“ _B͞͏e ̶̨͞c̴͏are͜͠f͏ul ̡̧w̶͞h̷o͟ ͏̵y͏o̶u ͞t̶ru̴̵̶s̵t͘͘._ ” the voice whispers, barely audible over the clatter of my shoes on the hard floor. I keep my eyes on the doorway to the infirmary. I consider the punishment for the solitary inmates, but am distracted by the voice repeating itself, louder, more insistently.

“What, I shouldn’t trust my own blood?” I ask as I push into the infirmary, much louder than I intended.

A blacksuit standing in the middle of the room looks up quizzically. I pause, feeling caught, but put on a smooth face and keep walking. I catch him shrug in an ‘it’s-obviously-none-of-my-business’ sort of way. I glance into the cots, relieved to find Arnold and Donovan secure, asleep, and hooked up to their IVs.

I might as well check on my new charges.

I make my way back to Cross’s office to find the folders still spread across his desk. I flip them open and pick out the three remaining inmates. I turn to leave, but pause when the voice chimes in. Instead, I lean against the desk and wait.

“ _Z͏e͢e ͡H͜͝҉a͢t͏c̛͏ḩe̸r͟.̡ ͟P͜r͠i̸s̡on̛͠er̛ n̕͏͏um̨̕͡b҉e͜r ͜҉͘201̴͠383̕͟2͢.͡ ̴̛͟Y͟o͢͞u͝͝r̶̨ c͢͡e̸͡l̷͟͞l̨̛ ͜͝͏įs̕ D̡24҉,̨̛ ̢f̛o̕urţ̢h l̵e͘v̧e͏l̶̷̛.͞ ͟C̷e͘͝l͜͞lm͟ate͟͞ ͏͢C͟͞a͢rl̛t̡̡͢ơ͘͟n ̸J̸̛o̸͏͘n̶es͠._ ”

I glance to the left, curious at its wording. I flip through the file to find 210 penned onto the photo. All of the information is accurate, the same as I read earlier today. The voice continues, and I look away.

“ _Al҉̶͠ȩ͢xa҉n͏̢̛d͘͜͡e͟͡r̡ ̵̵͟Sa͟w҉͟y̡͟͞e̡r̵͘͞.̴̸ ̷̧P̶̕r͏i̡͠s̷on̡̡ȩ̛͜r̷̶͞ ̕̕͢n̵u͞m̛b̨e͏͠r̢ ̡2̕͠0̷̧̡1̕͡3͢͡8̶̢͜3͢4̛.̕ C̷e͡ll͟ ͡n͜um̵be̵r̸͝ ͝͏̶F̢11̕,̢ ͞͡͝s͏̛͟ix̢t̨h̵̶ ̕l̢e̡vęl̛͝.̵͢͢ ̶͘C͏҉e͢l̸lm̕a̴͠tȩ ̕Cąr̵͞ļ ̧͠D̸͘͡o͞no̵̢҉v̧̢͝an.͢_ ”

Once again, the information is direct from the file. Number 208. I close the file and slide it behind the others, left with an unmarked manila folder. I frown at it. Maybe I shouldn’t open this one again.

 

“ _C̴̴͚͖̱̺̋̄ͣ̈̕o̵̴̖̻̥̭̜̟̙̱̱͌̊͌̋͛̊͗̅̕̕͜n̷̂ͮͩ̅̀̈́̕͏̵͍̺̫̟̙͇n̆̎ͫͭ̒ͬ̑ͥͩ̒͐͛ͫ͌̎҉̷̦̙̦̜̻̮͇̦͈͍͘o̸͎͙̮̱͈̬̪̦͔͕͇͖ͤ̉̎̃̾ͣͩ͑̍̀͞r̸̢̯̮͕̠̹̗̬̈́̄ͥ̄̂̆͛͐̓̏͌͆ͦ̈̐ͧ ̸̰̫̜͍̥̼̺̮̗̻̞̤̽̅̆͗ͤͩ͂̐͂̈͒̑̏ͨ̈́ͤ̎͘ͅͅS̸̸͇͍̳̭̞͓̬͓̭̬̝͙͉̯̫̖͗̿̓ͮ͐̍ͭ̈̚̚͟͟͡ͅą̠̜̻̼͉̄͛̆̿̆̔̈́ͪ͗͐͘w̏̓̾ͬ̆ͯ̃͒̋̉҉̩͈̠̩̘̞̩͠y̸̡̯̯̘̼̪͕͔̭͇̘͉͗̎̅ͦ̿ͪͥ̈́̍͊̋̇͂̐͛ͣę̸̷̰̝̻̫̠̝͎̘̗̫̪͈̲͍̳͊ͤͤͨ̈̚͜͞r̨̧̨͓̮͇̼͓͉̱͙͓̹̭͍̼͗ͬ̇̄ͥ̈̍̂͘.̴̸͙̘̘͚͚̤̲͍̉̄̆̆ͭ̀ͥ_ ”

 

A familiar rush of anger boils in my veins, but it’s dulled somewhat. The nectar hardly stirs, so I wait expectantly. It doesn’t say anything else.

“Is that it?”

“ _Ņ̴͏o̵t͘͠ ̢͝y̷̕e̛͡t̷._ ”

Whatever that means.

I open the file, and carefully avoid the boy’s name and the disciplinary information to see what else we have about him.

1009999\. D2. Dominic Tchaikovsky.

My brows crease, but I shrug it off. It isn’t exactly strange to grab kids off the street. Nothing but a name to hide behind.

I snort and close the file, pushing off of the desk to leave the room.

By the time I reach the solitary cells and I haven’t heard anything more from the strange voice, I decide that it must have gone for now. I’m almost surprised that there isn’t a guard. They seem to be everywhere, but this corridor is empty.

Escape from the hole is impossible. I can’t think of a way one might break out of them from inside. I gaze at the steel hatches in the ground, a strange sense of promnesia tickling the back of my mind. With a shake of my head, I spin a lever with a thought and swing the hatch open.

I look in and rage immediately whisks my breath from my lungs.

Connor.

Sawyer.

♥️♥️♥️ **C** ♥️♥️♥️

I nearly lose my footing when I finally get to see Sawyer without the plastic slats of the infirmary between us. Without Cross here to confuse everything. They’re as healthy as any of the other soldiers in the compound.

Well rested. Could probably snap me in half. Full of nectar.

They freeze when they see me in the hole, their eyes growing visibly darker as their gaze bores into me. Anger. Even with our connection cut off, I catch glimpses of orange and red on their shoulders.

They settle on a savage sneer. I don’t know if I should play along—try to reason with them—or not.  

“Connor Sawyer,” they say with some struggle. “Prisoner 1009999. You’re a real mystery.”

I ignore their words in favor of brushing the side of their mind.

They stop dead and pinpoint me with an out of character glare. They push me out so hard I physically stumble back.

Shit.

 _Fuck_.

“S—”

“Shut _up_ , inmate,” they hiss. “You survived here for two years. Now, instead of dying up above, you’ve chosen to hand yourself right over to the warden and I.”

Cross was so confident. It looks like he has a good reason for it. He has them. With the kind of walls they have up, there’s no getting them back unless they want to.

Their smirk freezes and Virtuoso appears on their hands and knees peering down into my cell. They look harassed.

“I hate to interrupt.” They reach a hand into my cell. “But I have to shut everything down for a little bit.”

I hesitate to take their hand.

“Why?”

They huff, so I humor them. The second our hands touch, something changes. I don’t have to look around to know we’re in the In-Between.

I do, though, on habit. The emptiness is absolute, nothing as far as the eye can see backed by inky black. I look back when they release my hand to find them standing a short distance away and dusting off their knees.

I didn’t know I could come here when I’m awake.

“Follow me. My houseguest wanted to meet you.”

They spin on their heel and strike out into the darkness. With nowhere else to go and nothing else to do, I follow.

Cloying lines of color rise from the floor with every deadened footstep. I watch them lift and dissipate in the near silence. I wonder if I could find my way home from here.

“Oh, there you are.”

I jolt to a stop when an entire scene appears in front of me. A glowing apparition of Sawyer hovers on their back some distance in the air. Two lines, one green and one violet , split the In-Between in two. The violet line sits flat while the green one writhes in time to an indistinct murmur. A soft indigo fog emits from the line as it moves, something different than the usual way the In-Between reacts to sound.

“Get down here,” Virtuoso calls. “This is your one chance to meddle, so make it count.”

The golden figure appears at my side without warning.

“I thought giving me an inch was a slippery slope,” this Sawyer says, peering at me like a predator. They laugh and take a step back into the air. “Good to see you where you can actually hear me.”

I almost ask what they mean, but they flicker into a floating point of light before reappearing and leaning close again. They were the light Virtuoso was arguing with when I first met them. They’re the reason I can even be here right now.

“And it’s certainly causing a lot of trouble,” Virtuoso mutters. “Administrative clearance, my ass.”

“We’ve been stuck in this point in time for weeks,” the copy whispers conspiratorially.

“Why bring me here now?”

“I asked.” They shrug and incline their head toward Virtuoso. “And Virtue here’s kind of freaking out.”

“Don’t call me that,” Virtuoso says without turning around.

The splinter shrugs and drifts up to lay on their back around eye level. They watch me without a word. My skin prickles under their gaze so I hurry to follow Virtuoso further into the lived in area of the In-Between.

They have several shining screens reminiscent of a sci-fi movie up in front of them. Most of them carry maps and lines of text. One has a looping clip of Sawyer walking a hallway just next to a capture of them speaking to me in solitary.

“We’ve been lucky so far,” Virtuoso murmurs with their hand tracking an abstract line on a map I can’t make sense of. “I thought I would make the last time memorable.”

If they’re anything like Sawyer, if I don’t say anything they should go on. I watch them trace the map. They make a face after a minute.

They wave their hand and most of the screens disappear. The one with the lines they were following remains up. In fact, it balloons so I can see it clearly. It’s a probability map—a _huge_ one.

“Every time that we’ve spoken,” they pause to tap four branches on the screen to make them glow, “has been a risk.”

All of the branches are fairly extensive with different possible paths, but these four make a broken window look linear. The paths branch out and quickly end. Unsustainable, dead.

“Each time I pause to make my changes, I have to make sure you don’t change anything,” they explain. “It wasn’t a problem before. Jess daydreamed half of the first book over the course of three days so I was too busy to do anything out of real-time.”

“But now they’re running out of steam.” I say with a flat voice. “Losing focus. Slowing down.”

They nod.

“I have the time, but now pausing things brings new problems.”

I lean close to the screen to read the different branches. The ones we’ve followed are all labelled ‘contact’ surrounded by several others with the same label. The others have some variation of ‘discovered’ and ‘undiscovered.’

I reach out, surprised when a touch to the first time we spoke outside of the In-Between zooms it in to that point in time. A few of the other paths reach pretty far, and I wonder how they chose between them. How they decided which path to take.

Hang on.

“You’ve been _distracting_ me.” They have the grace to look distraught when I turn to them instead of the map.

“It was the safest option. With how often I have to turn everything off to course correct—”

“You could just said, ‘hey, don’t move when everything pauses.’ I _can_ follow directions, you know.” I manage not to raise my voice, but it’s a struggle. “That’s literally what I _do._ ”

“The bad endings where I leave you alone are far worse than the ones I risked when I spoke to you,” they say between gritted teeth. “I’m fixing the mistake I made when I gave you clearance now, anyway.”

_What?_

“We came to an agreement.”

I spin around to find the splinter of Sawyer hovering in the air and smiling far too wide just a few inches from my face. I shuffle back, but have to stop when the screen tries to phase through my back. The splinter simply follows me, so I might as well not try.

“What kind of agreement?”

“It took both of us to change the settings and allow this to happen.” Virtuoso grabs the splinter by the scruff and tugs them back. The way they settle back to the floor with a huff tells me it’s not the first time this has happened. “They begged me to allow you in the In-Between, I gave permission.”

“Now they’re begging me to let them fix it.” The splinter shrugs. “But I’m so bored, stuck in here.”

“You agreed,” Virtuoso snaps.

“I _agreed_ , that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.”

“I gave you every chance to change the terms.” Virtuoso turns to the splinter and scowls.

“You vetoed every idea I had!” The splinter lifts its hands in a lazy show of frustration. “I barely had any input by the time I said yes—”

“To what?” I cut in again. I wonder how long they’ve been having these circular arguments around here.

They both look at me as if they forgot I was here.

“You’ll come here whenever V pauses your world,” the splinter explains, lifting their feet into the air. Virtuoso shoves them off course at another shortening of their name. “Keep you from going anywhere and let me see you every once in a while.”

They smile and force me to remember that they really are just another piece of Sawyer.

“And you won’t remember anything once the setting goes into affect,” Virtuoso adds with a glare still pointed at the splinter. “Not until you leave the universe permanently.”

Until I die. Until I have to return to the Cube.

“To make fewer bad endings on the map?” I confirm.

They both nod. I sigh. The safest option.

“Do you need my permission to change the rules, or whatever?”

“No.” Virtuoso purses their lips.

“We don’t _need_ it,” the splinter says. They crowd close again, and this time I don’t shy away. It sounds like they haven’t actually talked to anyone but Virtuoso in a while. “But I wanted to ask for it first.”

How considerate.

I won’t be able to rely on them stopping things at an opportune moment. I can’t hope for them to tell me things. I’ll be on my own again, but isn’t that how I expected to do this from the beginning?

“Fine,” I say after a moment.

The splinter grins.

“Perfect.”

“Your history doesn’t matter.”

Light shocks my eyes when I reappear in the hole. I blink a few times, and I’m probably lucky that Sawyer isn’t actually looking at me. They look, instead, at a file in their hand.

Damn, I should have asked about them while I could still talk to Virtuoso.

Sawyer flips the file shut and turns away. “Stew in the hole for a month. You’ll welcome what comes next by then, if you still have a mind to see it with.”

The door to the cell falls closed and leaves me in darkness again before I’ve truly recovered from the transition back into normal time. I’m back in the universe, and I’m not leaving again until I have no choice about it.

~-S-~

“ _I͟͟͞ş̷ t̡͝h̢͜a̶t̨ ͢i͜͠t̸?̴̷̕_ ”

I survey the suits assigned to me. Two soldiers, waiting outside of Cross’s office. They seem capable, and two will be more than enough to watch four inmates.

My brother stands beside them, eyes on me. I nod and turn back into the office. The suits remain in place, and Cross follows me. The situation upstairs is taken care of, and all of the escapees are either dead or secure.

“You’re troubled?”

I stop in the middle of the office and turn, watching him settle behind his desk. I don’t answer immediately, and I begin to feel fingers of nectar poking at my thoughts.

“Quit that,” I mutter with a shake of my head. Cross shrugs, and I avert my eyes. “I think I know the inmates in solitary. All four of them.”

He doesn’t say anything. He watches me intently from behind steepled fingers. I force myself to look at him directly, even if I can’t quite meet his gaze head on.

“I don’t know how, but they’re all so familiar. They must have been...” I trail off. Cross inclines his head, but he says nothing. I shake my head again, and there’s a tangible sense of disappointment from the presence of the voice. “It doesn’t matter. The sooner they’re converted, the better.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear.”

It _was_ a test.

I shouldn’t be surprised. Testing the bounds of loyalty has been his job since the prison opened. It would make me an idiot to believe he wouldn’t push me, too. Still, something about this seems strange.

“ _Yo̸͝u̸͢'͞͡r̛e̷̶̕ ͏r̡ig̸͢͜ht̢͢._ ”

“Is there anything else you aren’t telling me?”

I steel myself, force myself to look at him, and shake my head. Fingers of nectar once again push into my thoughts. I wait for him to find out about the voice, but a fog overtakes both my own thoughts and Cross’s search. Without meaning to, I shove them both out.

For a moment, I stand in shock. That wasn’t supposed to happen. I don’t look at him, but that doesn’t keep the ominous weight of the room from growing. It pushes in on me, and I can’t breathe. Something in the back of my mind tells me to run, but I bite it back.

Then it’s gone.

I look up at the growing anger in his eyes. That _really_ wasn’t supposed to happen. With a sharp inhale, I straighten up.

“There’s nothing that I can’t handle on my own,” I say, subdued. He raises his eyebrows. I have to rally myself before I continue, and I sound much more assured when I do. “Everything’s under control.”

“It is, isn’t it?” He gazes at me, his anger twisting into a surprising delight. Though I don’t expect his geniality, I nod. He chuckles. “Give your soldiers their orders and meet me in the training complex.”

It’s a dismissal, obviously, but I wait a moment before leaving. I watch him turn and walk back to his desk. He reaches for the phone but pauses and glances at the door.

I avert my eyes and head out.

The suits cut off their conversation and straighten up. I turn on my way to solitary and wave them along after me. I start relaying them the general schedule but I’m still distracted—I mean, what the hell just happened?

I shut Cross out when he asked me a direct question.

That should have sent me to a screening room, maybe even a hole of my own. Instead, he actually laughed about it and decided to train with me. It isn’t like him to give special treatment.

If anything, he used to be so much harsher on me than anyone else.

“ _Y̴ǫ͟u̷ ̛̕͏sh̶̴o̸u͢ld͏̵ b̧͞e̵̷ ̸̧c͟ar҉̴e͜f̡u̷̢l._ ”

 _Yes, thank you, please shut the fuck up_.

I lose my train of thought and dismiss my soldiers to the hole. They’ll be fine, they’ve been here long enough to know how this works.

“ _O̵f̧͡ ̸̧͘ç̵̧o̴u̸͟r̶͘s͜e.͝ W͠ę ͘͞c͟a̵̡n̶̢ ̶̨t͡a̴l̢͞͏k ̡͏a͢bout t̨hi̡͝ş ͢l͏̷a͠t̨̕͠e͢r̡͠.̴_ ”

 _Cheeky bastard,_ I think, hardly surprised to find it responding to my thoughts.

I split from the suits at the infirmary, still considering it. I stop in the middle of the room and look up at a low groan from one of the cots. I peer through the curtain to see another of the escapees strapped to the bed, a bag of second-rate nectar connected to his arm.

“ _K̢͘e̸v̵i͡n͢._ ”

 _I thought you were going to leave._ I step closer, sliding the curtain closed behind me.

“ _S̴̕o͠rr̷̕y̨.̢_ ”

I start to sit and a chair appears under me. The boy’s eyes squint tighter shut, then they open. He struggles against the binding but stops when he sees me. The nectar’s fog clears from his eyes and I feel relief wash over him.

“Thank god. Get me the hell out of here, Perry.”

I blink at him. He isn’t looking at me anymore, focused on the leather straps around his wrists and ankles. I don’t know much about this particular inmate other than the fights we’ve seen on the screens. I stand and slip out of the cubicle, returning in seconds with a syringe of Cross’s new nectar.

“Everything will be fine.” I stop at the side of his bed.

“Whatchu doing?” I glance up to see his eyes bulge. He pulls harder against the bindings, his voice now panicked. “S’no way you really went dark side.”

“We’re both where we belong,” I say with a smile. I inject a tiny amount of the blue nectar into his IV feed. “With our help, you can make much more of a difference than your flailing in the yard.”

When I look back at him, the nectar has already knocked him out. He won’t remember this when he wakes up. I watch him, brow furrowed. An uneasy feeling tickles the back of my mind.

He thought I was going to let him go.

I shake my head and turn to leave just to find Cross watching me from the door to the deeper tunnels. I catch his grin as he turns away and pushes through the plastic slats. I drop the empty syringe on a tray and follow him.


	5. New Territory

♥️♥️♥️ **C** ♥️♥️♥️

“You don’t even know that.”

“ _Only because you don’t_.”

I squint at Jay. They’re just a hallucination, but I don’t have much else to do. If the only distraction I have is a passive-aggressive advice trade with a mental representation of one of my friends, who am I to argue?

“At least you’re self aware about that.” I lean back against the wall. “Better than trying to convince me you’re really here.”

“ _If I was_ really _mean, I’d be trying to tell you we never left the memories._ ” They rock closer on their heels, the corners of their lips lifted in a rare smile. “ _But I think you have enough problems as it is._ ”

“Can we not do the ‘this is Connor’s fault now and forever’ thing?”

“ _We both know it isn’t your fault._ ”

_Isn’t it?_

They shake their head and shrink into a minuscule version of themself. They sit in some invisible chair and fix me with a glare I’ve only really seen once. When they kicked me out of their lab a couple months ago, they seared it into my retinas.

“ _We can run around and assign blame to you, or to Kevin, Monty, Cross, this_ Virtuoso _character, but that doesn’t change the truth._ ”

Don’t say it.

“ _This is Sawyer’s fault._ ”

I knock my head back into the wall in an attempt to make them shatter out of existence, but they just shift so I can still see them. They shake their head and the pity in their eyes makes it worse. I don’t want the sympathy of a hallucination of a mad scientist.

“ _The real Jay would give you shit for thinking that,_ ” they note. “ _But you know I’m right. I don’t know if the real me thinks so, but everything we’re doing now is to mitigate Sawyer’s boredom._ ”

“That’s not true!” I swipe at the specter, but my hand passes right through. “They don’t always have control of these things.”

“ _Says who?_ ”

I grit my teeth. They wouldn’t lie to me about that. They wouldn’t purposely put themself through scenarios that make their real life even harder to cope with. They wouldn’t do these things to us on purpose.

“ _They know what makes a good story_ ,” Jay says tartly. “ _And whether they know it or not, they have to decide for something to happen. If they really wanted this to end, the real version of them, the one on the outside, could do it._ ”

“Shut up.”

“ _I can’t believe we all thought_ they _were the one with an unhealthy dependence on_ you! _You won’t even tell your friends that Sawyer was trying to trick Cross. Did you finally realize it’s more likely they tricked you so you would cover for them?_ ”

I cover my ears, but it does nothing to drown them out. If anything, they grow louder.

“ _You were so willing to just fade out of existence in the memories. For what? A little kid that can’t see when they’re hurting their best friends?_ ”

“I’m not playing around, shut your goddamn mouth.”

They do. That, more than anything, derails the panic they were starting up. These things don’t normally listen, so I pull my hands from my ears.

“ _I’m just telling you what you already believe._ ”

“You’re telling me what I know the real you thinks,” I say firmly. “But I also know you would let yourself die before you actually did anything to hurt them.”

They sigh.

“ _You might be right._ ” They morph back into a normal size to touch the side of my face. I can’t feel it, and I wonder if that’s how Sawyer feels when the rest of us try to comfort them. Nothing. “ _It's probably_ _an instinct programmed into most of us by now._ ”

“Are you really gonna keep going with the conspiracy theories? It’s getting kind of tired by now.”

“ _What do you expect?_ ” They straighten up and my heart drops when they begin to fade. “ _It’s common knowledge that I don’t really trust anyone._ ”

“Do you have to go?”

They shrug.

“ _If you were paying attention, you would have_ told _me to leave._ ”

They disappear with an inaudible pop when I tilt my head and throw my awareness out to listen outside of the isolated cell. It takes a second to actually make sense of what the two blacksuits above the solitary cells are talking about.

“You’re sure they won’t be back?”

“Cross has them training across the compound. Besides, the next attack on the North Door is supposed to come today.”

“I guess someone has to have the whole schedule memorized. How long will that give us?”

“If they take the bait and go to the attack, five hours, easy. If not, we’ll be lucky for two.”

“Let’s not waste more time, then.”

Gears grind and I shade my eyes when the cell flips open. Two half-moon grins block out most of the light, but it still burns my retinas. I let my head fall back against the wall.

“You here to help me or kill me?”

“What do you think?” One reaches into the cell and the other disappears from sight. It only takes a few minutes for the suits to get all three of us out of our cells and get us up to speed.

Sawyer is unquestioningly on Cross’s side right now. They’ve gone through a curiously dramatic transformation and as far as they know we’re the enemy. We’re on the right time schedule, but with recent developments our loyal blacksuits see no reason to drag on a process that we could get out of the way now.

We could get out.

That knowledge overrides everything I know about how this game works. We could get out of this damn prison and see the sun _today_. We could just.

Go.

I don’t say anything once the blacksuits leave us to our own devices.

“It still feels wrong to trust blacksuits,” Alex says, close to my right.

Zee crowds in on my other side. “You _do_ trust them, right?”

I keep my eyes ahead and only falter for a second when I catch sight of the red light of the infirmary not far away. It’s such a stupid thing to give me pause. It’s just a _color_.

I push my awareness out to check for wheezers, and am pleasantly surprised to find one already dead in one of the cubicles. God bless the Scouts and their habit of closing loose ends before they even become a problem.

“Connor?” Zee tries again.

“Yeah.” I shake the thought off and push through the flaps into the infirmary. The light seeps through my pores to bathe everything bloody. I try not to look too closely at anything. “Go ahead and gather what we need to climb. I’ll get the others.”

They disappear further down with a nod. Before I actually start my search, I lift a couple scalpels from a medical tray nearby. Kevin and Donovan should still be bound by leather straps with how early in the game we are.

Besides, I have to make sure the blacksuits actually made it look like one of us killed the wheezer. Even if Cross knows exactly which of his suits are on our side, I doubt they need more blame pointed at them.

With shaking hands and resolve, I pull back the first of the curtains surrounding the beds. A handful of them are empty, but most hold sleeping inmates. Soon-to-be blacksuits.

Specimens.

I find the wheezer before either of my friends. It stares up from its resting place on the floor, though it can’t see anymore. Its gas mask, previously stapled to its face, sits several feet away next to the air tank attached to it.

That would definitely do it. The wheezers can’t process oxygen.

For good measure, I kneel beside it and drive one of the scalpels through its raisin of an eye. Rotten nectar oozes around the silver of the blade. That might convince Cross that this was all us.

After that, it only takes another couple beds to find Donovan. He’s unconscious, but as far as I can tell he hasn’t been operated on. If he had, I would have to leave him here.

I stare at the traces of blue in the IV at his bedside. I can’t help but wonder again what Cross could have made. I don’t see how it could get worse than the red stuff, though an unknown variable in his arsenal is definitely bad news.

Whatever it is, Donovan jerks awake with a low groan when I slip the catheter out of his arm.

On second thought, I’m not sure if I would really call it ‘awake.’

His eyes roll back, veins dark and pulsing. The bed rattles with every tug against his leather bindings. I’m not sure if he recognizes me or even knows I’m here. I have to pull him out of this before he draws another wheezer out.

“Hey, D.” I turn his head around to face me, though the nectar gives him enough strength he could probably pull out of my grip if he wanted to. “It’s Connor. Donovan, can you hear me? You gotta wake up before we get caught.”

His eyes finally lock on me, wide and fearful.

I try to break the nectar’s fog manually, but I can’t even get my awareness to gather. There’s nothing I can do but mutter my name and his name and a plea for him to come back.

A wheezer shrieks in the distance, and I think that’s what brings him back. He falls back against his pillow when I let go. His eyes are clear.

“Connor. Jesus.” He lifts his head to watch me while I saw at his straps. “That was different than last time. How the _hell’d_ you get me back?”

I glance back at the IV stand, then down at the still-dripping catheter.

“I think I can protect us against that,” I mutter. He swings out of bed the second his hands are free. “See if you can’t find a bag of nectar with just the blue flecks in it while I get Kevin.”

“Right.” He whisks through the curtain and I follow after a few seconds.

With something more distant for me to worry over, I can literally feel my concern over the light ebbing away. The nectar has always been a distraction from more immediate concerns. Why worry about literally being hunted by a hoard of monsters when you can wonder what the stuff making the monsters go actually does?

Kevin’s in the bed across the way. He doesn’t wake up when I pull the catheter out. With the facade of calm I’ve found, I still manage to force my way into his head.

Just the echo bouncing back at me almost makes me forget what I’m doing. A soft lullaby tugs me towards sleep. The smooth surface of the water asks why I would bother to disturb it.

I drift through the fog. Nothing matters.

I ram directly into Kevin’s consciousness. It’s barely enough to bring me back. I hook into Kevin and pull him to the surface with me.

Cold sweat sticks my uniform to my skin, my hair to my forehead, when we return. Kevin gasps like a fish out of water and strains against his bindings. His thrashing knocks me back a few steps, but I can’t get myself to move on my own.

Donovan thought he wouldn’t make it back.

It’s a damn intravenous siren song.

“Sawyer!” Kevin hisses. “Get me out of here.”

I force myself back to the side of his bed. It doesn’t take long to cut his bindings. By the time we meet back up with the others we both have several bags of nectar and some tubing that should be useful for climbing. Donovan has a pan full of nectar bags, some gold and silver, others with blue galaxies.

Alex and Zee are both laden with medical-turned-climbing gear.

I only breathe easy when we leave the red light of the infirmary behind.

~-S-~

We’ve been in the tunnels for nearly half an hour, and I still haven’t landed a direct hit. I haven’t had a chance to fight in who knows how long, so I’m not exactly surprised that I’m subpar in comparison.

I back up, a broken arm held to my chest. Thanks to the nectar, it’ll only take a few minutes to heal well enough to fight with, but it still hurts like a motherfucker. Cross isn’t the type to stop a match due to an injury, so I back myself into a corner and listen.

“Perry?” The light voice carries through the tunnel. I can’t tell how far away he is or which way he’s coming from. “I’m not a fan of hide and seek. If I have to find you, this may get unpleasant.”

I just need another minute. A broken arm is a dangerous handicap with Cross fighting. He doesn’t pull any punches.

I divert as much nectar as I can to my hands anyway. It encases them to replace working fingers with two wicked blades. As an added precaution, I coat my right arm with a heavy layer of nectar. I’d like it to heal straight, at the very least.

I creep back the way I came, alert for footsteps.

“It’s already fairly unpleasant,” I call when I reach a junction. “I thought we’d fight in a room, not a cave.”

“You must live with what you have, I’m afraid.”

I jerk around to face the right-hand tunnel. Even with the nectar providing superior night vision, I can hardly see down that way. It’s definitely where his voice is coming from.

I edge down that way with my blades at the ready. The pain in my arm has faded to a steady throb. It should be healed soon.

“How many of these caves have been explored?” I ask this over my shoulder in hopes that it might throw him off. “It’d be a shame if the warden of the prison got lost out here.”

“That sounds dangerously like a threat, _Perry_.”

He is far too close, and I still can’t see him.

“It’s an observation.”

A rock skitters out from a shadow in the wall. I barely raise my knives in time to keep Cross from driving a fist through my face. His savage grin is enough to get the nectar pounding in my ears.

I knock him back and for once I have the upper hand.

Round two. Start.

♥️♥️♥️ **C** ♥️♥️♥️

“How did you get out?”

Simon was getting ready to come spring us out when we burst into his cave. His two friends, Ozzie and Pete, both wear the same blank stare as the other empty inmates. They ask no questions and don’t speak unless they’re spoken to.

I wonder how long Simon had to sit here with only them as company.

It takes a brief explanation on how I’m far too familiar with the Scouts for my own good. How I know the blacksuits’ actual boss enough to get him to convince them to be on our side this run. On the dwindling number of blacksuits in the prison whose loyalty lies with us.

On Sawyer switching sides.

I’ll wait until we’re out of the prison to tell them the truth about Sawyer’s betrayal. Whatever my hallucinations of Jay might say, I don’t think they meant to actually join Cross.

If this blue nectar is anything to go off of, he could probably turn anyone into a model soldier of Furnace.

I let everyone else talk about the Steeple, about Furnace and Cross, about the blacksuits and about Sawyer. I focus on the bag of blue nectar in my hands and wonder how long Cross has been working on it.

Now that I have so much of it to look at, to feel with the edges of my mind, I don’t want to risk any of us stuck with it without protection. Donovan and Kevin are still recovering from just a few hours with it in their systems. They only just started participating in the conversation.

That’s just from sitting in the infirmary.

It should be simple enough to section off a portion of our minds, though. If we can keep a little bit of us from being affected by it, we should be able to return to being _us_ even if we’re exposed to it. I’ve done this before, back when we were doing this without Sawyer to drag us all out of the nectar’s thrall.

“Did you see Sawyer?”

At Zee’s words, I jerk upright and let the bag of nectar fall to the ground. I shouldn’t delve too deep into the actual effects of the stuff, not if I want to remain myself for the time we have.

“Yeah.” Kevin crosses his arms. “Almost didn’t recognize her.”

“Them,” Zee mutters.

“I’ve seen nectar change people, but never like that,” Alex muses. “They almost looked like an anime character.”

“It’s not the nectar.” Everyone looks at me now. I shrug. “Everything here listens to them. If their subconscious wants them to have a bright pink ponytail, we can’t really argue with it.”

“So they’re the enemy now?” Simon asks me, of all people.

“Right now, they’re just under Cross’s thumb.” I push to my feet and dust myself off. “I think they’ll find their way to enemy status, though, yeah.”

“I thought they were past that.”

Simon’s disappointment is a surprise. Like an AA sponsor hearing about a relapse. After an uncomfortable silence, he asks about the new nectar.

“It’s bad fucking news.” Donovan tosses another bag of it between his hands. “I’m not going back there to tangle with it again.”

“That bad?”

“Worse,” Kevin cuts in. “Never felt nothin’ like that, death in a goddamn bottle.”

The two of them tag team explaining what the blue nectar felt like. The dreaminess, the feeling that absolutely nothing matters. They both use the same imagery of a perfectly still lake urging you to follow suit.

Nothing else matters so long as you keep still and let go.

I can’t shake off the feeling I’m forgetting something. The idea of the nectar creating a blank slate of my friends’ minds is something I can’t ignore, but there’s something else. Something just out of reach.

“What’ll we do if the Steeple doesn’t work out?” Alex asks. “We can’t just—if it’s that strong, we aren’t seriously going back?”

“I’ll fix it so we can find our way back,” I explain. “We’ll be fine.”

“With your—” Zee wiggles his fingers. “—weird brain magic?”

That finally draws a laugh out of the group. Even I manage a smile. Someone has to make us keep being people, I guess.

“Hell yeah. I wanna do it as soon as possible, in case our usual plan goes sideways.”

Donovan enthusiastically volunteers to go first. I direct him to sit on the floor with his eyes closed, and I kneel in front of him. His jaw tenses when I settle a hand on either side of his head, thumbs on his temples.

“Focus on your name, D,” I prompt with a tendril of thought already winding its way into his consciousness. This is so much easier than messing with his physical brain. “Think of home and going back there. Home.”

“Gonna get a real burger,” Alex adds. “Jess knows how you like them by now.”

 _There_.

The contented touch of the focused thoughts eases my own nerves. I wrap a piece of my own consciousness around it, a rubber capsule against the cold electricity of the nectar. If everything goes right, this small piece of Donovan can be bounced around indefinitely without being erased.

It worked the last time I had to do this without Sawyer, after all.

I push harder to bury the thing as deep in his subconscious as I can. I don’t know what Sawyer’s deal is, but it’s probably best if they don’t find anything like this in our heads.

I withdraw and let go.

Donovan’s eyes fly open with a choked cough. He shakes his head like he’s got water lodged in his ear. I move back toward him, but he just sticks out a hand for Alex to help him to his feet.

“You okay?”

“You could’a warned me before pulling the plug like that.” Donovan shakes himself out while I clamber upright. “Felt like you pushed me into the river, damn.”

I grin.

“I never said it would be fun.” I shift to face the rest of the group. “Who’s next?”


	6. Whose Side Are You on?

~-S-~

Cross is far too fast for me. Even for him, this is more savage than I would expect from a spar. A practice match shouldn’t be life or death between the only people capable of running this place. Even with the voice giving warnings and innocent suggestions, I can’t get out of the defensive.

Lights pop in my vision when my head cracks against the tunnel wall. I struggle to breathe, but I still manage to duck to the side fast enough for Cross’s fist to knock a crater into the wall instead of my head.

Jesus Christ.

I don’t know how long we’ve been in here. Long enough that the static of the voice has restarted the pulsing headache behind my eyes. Long enough that, even with the nectar, my limbs have begun to grow heavy.

“ _T͡h͢e̸͢͝r̡e̷.̛_ ”

I catch him square in the face this time, the crack of both his bones and mine too loud in the dark tunnel. He staggers back, hand over his nose while I shake my hand out. If he hasn’t retaliated yet, I assume we’re finished.

“ _H̶͢m̧͘.̛͟_ ”

That’s probably not a good sign.

I look up in time to see Cross hurtling toward me. In time to just barely lift a hand.

He stops stock still inches away with his head cocked.

The siren screeches in the distance.

He steps away. The motion tugs me forward as the blade still encasing my left hand slides out of his midsection. I glance at the spreading black stain on his shirt, but he doesn’t say a word before stalking down the hall.

I let the blade liquify and withdraw through my pores. He’ll heal. I catch up with him at a jog to find him growling at his com.

“How many?”

“ _Too many,_ ” the tinny voice of a soldier reports. “ _I called reinforcements, but—_ ”

“We’re closer, yes.” Cross increases his pace. “We’re on our way.”

“Which entrance?” I ask when we finally reach the lit halls of the compound. I trail a few steps behind him.

“The North Door.”

“ _O҉͞h͞,̛ d͏e͜a̷̡͡r͘.͡_ ”

And the voice laughs! It’s a spine-chilling echo, too many layers of the sound. A rat attack could take down our numbers. If they get in and find our stores of nectar, we may have to return to rationing it for the first time since I’ve been back. I wouldn’t exactly call it a laughing matter.

It laughs again, and I have to grit my teeth to keep from responding.

“ _W͡e̷ ̸͟b̕͝o̧͠t͜͏h̶̷͟ ̢͘k̴͜no͡w̴ ̢k̛҉͘͜͞k̡͜k̢ķ̶̴͘͡y̧͏o̴̷u͝ ̛͏d͘ǫ̕n͢’̨t̡̕ ̕h̨͡a͘͡͝v̛e̛̛ ̢k͢҉̵̴k̴̡k҉͘͝k̶҉̨͟҉ t̵o̶ ̶ta͢l̷͢k̨._ ”

The static cuts its words into pieces and makes the headache worse. I scratch at an itch on my arm to distract myself from it. I don’t want to talk to it. I just want it to leave.

So, I guess I can just—

 _Go away_.

“ _Ve͟ry̕ w͡ell.̷_ ”

A chill sweeps down my spine. A physical weight rises from my shoulders and I’m left cold and tired.

I glance at Cross ahead of me, but the purpose in his stride hasn’t faltered. If he noticed anything wrong, he certainly isn’t saying anything about it. That’s just as well. We have another fight ahead of us.

♥️♥️♥️ **C** ♥️♥️♥️

“Maybe this’ll actually be the last time,” Alex says.

Simon points the flashlight up the Steeple. It’s just a raised bit of the cliff wall, really, and we still don’t know if it would be possible to get to the surface that way. Even if we can’t, we need to check whether there are rats up there.

Tubes wrap around both Alex and Simon, MacGyvered climbing gear. I don’t know how well that would hold up in the real world. After eight times of pushing through it in this one, though, I’m confident it can get them up there.

“You really wanna jinx that?” Simon laughs and starts up the wall before either of them can stall further.

I watch until the flashlight tied to Simon’s uniform gives neither their distance nor their speed away. None of us left behind can see in the dark like Simon can. The first surgery the warden does on new specimens is to give them new eyes. The gift of night vision is little consolation for everything he takes away.

I know that I’m one of the few who enter Furnace still unafraid of the dark.

I raise a hand and four small orbs of light grow in my palm. They end up about the size of tangerines, light as a feather. I hand one each to Zee, Kevin, and Donovan.

“Oh, sweet.” Zee raises his up to inspect. I hope he doesn’t blind himself or something. “Thanks.”

I shrug and settle on the ground facing the drop off while they retreat closer to the tunnel with low murmurs. Our outcropping of rock is big enough to give us plenty of room to hang out in, but I need time. I need time to actually process. I don’t think any of it has really hit me yet.

Cross killed Monty and Jimmy right in front of me.

Sawyer’s on the wrong side.

Virtuoso cut me off.

Dominic’s dead.

I close my eyes against the immediate wrench in my gut. Now might not be the best time to think about that, actually.

Sawyer always used to say that these universes were fine because they aren’t real. This isn’t Sword Art Online, we all get to go home when we die. We’re stuck here until then, but it’s fine, right, because it’s all make believe?

I have a feeling they aren’t going to be saying that anymore. This is so different than any of the other games we’ve played. There’s nothing fun about it, and I have a feeling they knew that before we even came in here.

Maybe I do blame them, a little, for all of this. If Cross wasn’t here, wasn’t such an _evil_ person, none of this would even be happening, though. They’ll have to make it up to everyone a million times over, anyway.

Then there’s me.

I convinced everyone to come. The suits likely would have decided to eventually, but I got them contractually obliged to be here. I was lucky to have found Zee, Donovan, and Simon together, they practically convinced each other to come to make sure no one did anything stupid.

They did such a great job, right?

Nick agreed at first, then changed his mind because he was convinced that Sawyer hates him. I couldn’t exactly argue, because I didn’t know if they did back then. I had to swear to get everyone to stop giving him the cold shoulder upon our return if he came.

And Alex, well…

This is going to suck when I can’t avoid it anymore.

“She gave me the injection herself!”

I twist around to find Kevin standing stiff as a board. He glares at the other two, they watch him warily.

“Kevin—” Zee starts.

“I didn’t wanna believe it either!” he stomps a foot and gestures at nothing. “But Jess ain’t here. S’far as I’m concerned, she’s as bad as Cross.”

“They aren’t,” I blurt.

So much for not telling them.

“What do you mean?” Zee asks.

“Sawyer wanted to trick Cross, but it didn’t work.” I shrug and turn back to the empty air of the drop. “They didn’t want anyone to know.”

“That’s what they told you, yeah?”

I freeze. I don’t know if Donovan is actually implying the same as my hallucination of Jay, but _damn_.

“Not just them, but yeah,” I say eventually. “Not like it matters now what their intentions were.”

“‘Not just them?’” Zee cuts in. God damn it, why couldn’t _he_ have climbed the damn cliff?

I roll my ball of light from one hand to another. How am I supposed to explain Virtuoso? Whatever the hell was going on with the In-Between? The third version of Sawyer hanging around?

After a tense silence, I pull my arm back and hurl my light into the darkness. It disappears too quickly. I wait, but I never hear it hit the ground. I’m not sure if it fell too far to hear or if it evaporated from existence when I set it loose.

“I have a source,” is what I end up with. Well, I _had_ a source for about a day. “They told me it wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“This isn’t, like, a hallucination thing is it?” Zee asks.

I turn back and join them at the mouth of the tunnel. I don’t want to be that close to the ledge without being able to see.

“Nah. They’re real enough.” As real as the rest of us, at least. “It’s Cube stuff.”

At that, all three of them nod. They get it. Well, they don’t, but they get that they aren’t supposed to get it. The Cube is weird enough for those of us created there, so it’s a catch-all excuse.

“Alright, so—”

The four of us clustered around the tunnel flinch deeper in at Alex’s voice. Neither of him nor Simon actually look at us, but it only takes a glance to know what their news is.

“—the rats are definitely there.”

Alright. We’re going with plan B, then. Plan B that’s technically also just the next step in plan A. Which also sort of started as a plan B?

Plan A was the escape through the river, plan B the Steeple. That makes climbing the furnace plan C. I could probably get a good joke about the plan that actually gets us all out of here being plan D, but I should save it for later.

“I guess it’s the furnace, then,” Zee says, as good a way to snap me out of my head as any. “We shouldn’t have even bothered.”

He’s probably right. Now we just need to pick our bait for the rats.

“Paper, Scissors, Rock.”

Simon and Alex are already at it. I turn to Donovan, leaving Zee to shoot against Kevin. Donovan has a hand poised to play, but I can’t help a frown.

“I know I say this every time—”

“Here we go,” Simon snorts.

“—but ‘Paper, Scissors, Rock?’”

I give in to shoot against Donovan, who practically breaks my scissored fingers under his rock. I sulk over to Zee, who also lost his hand. Alex waits to the side to take on whoever loses this one.

Hey, Zee’s American.

“Please tell me you hate it, too,” I say when I lift my hand.

He shrugs.

“When in Rome.”

“This might not be the place to test that mindset out,” I point out. “When in Rome: become a literal monster.”

I lose, but then I beat Alex in the final _Rock,_ Paper, Scissor’s game. He doesn’t look all that surprised, but then neither am I. He always loses this. There hasn’t been a single iteration of this universe that he hasn’t lured the rats down from their perch.

As always, better him than me.

~-S-~

Rats, too many of them for such a small group of soldiers, swarm the cavern beyond the North Door to the compound. We held fine against them for a while. Then another horde swept in from the tunnels, leaving us outnumbered.

Our own reinforcements haven’t arrived. I have only hazy memories of the last time I used a shotgun, but the concept is simple. Point and shoot.

I can’t bite back a shriek when teeth sink into my shoulder.

The rat tears at my back. It throws off my aim, sending shot to the roof of the cavern rather than into one of its brethren. I drop the gun in my haste to knock the rat off.

The rat falls limp, and I turn back to find Cross covered in black blood with the rat’s throat crushed in his hand. He throws it to the ground and points back into the compound.

“Return to your post.”

The idea of insisting to stay doesn’t occur to me until I’ve already passed the group of maybe twenty soldiers on my way into the compound. I hesitate, turn back, but Cross already has his hands full barking orders at the reinforcements. Making demands in the face of _that_ , I’d end up carried out on a stretcher.

So, I swivel around and strike out into the compound. I can’t believe he’s banishing me back to the lab like I did something wrong.

“ _F̢͡o̷c͡u҉ş̕ on ͝ţh̴̶e ̛inm҉̶͟a҉t̛҉es̴̨ ̵in͜͠ ̵̨̕s̛o͘͘͞l̷͡i͜͜͠tar̕͘y̵,̢_ ” that voice reminds me under static. “ _I̸s͠͞n’t̛ ͝t̶h͞͏̵a̕͟͟t̴̡ k̷͘k̴̸҉ķ͟k̷̸̸̡̕͝͏ y̛͟o̸̧͏ur p̸o͞͠s͜t?̧_ ”

I shake my head. That’s not how it works.

“It’s _one_ of my jobs,” I mutter. “There’s no point in checking them so soon.”

It hums a laugh. “ _A̵̢re̷̵͞ ̕͜yo̡͞u͏͢ ͜͜su̴r̨e̸̶͜?̨_ ”

I stop at a junction in the hall. The path to my right is the fastest way to the lab. I have tests to do, find a way to lower our chances of getting rats in the conversion process. I have a job.

To the left, the solitary cells are just a few minutes walk from here. There’s no logical reason I should check them. What, a voice in my head told me to? That’ll go over real well if Cross catches me out of the lab.

“ _Sc̢̡a͘͝r͏e̵d͠͞?̢͞_ ”

I turn left.

It’s just a detour. Whether it’s the voice planting doubts in me or something real, a poisonous unease infects my gut. I’ll prove there’s nothing to worry about, then I’ll return to the lab.

There’s _nothing_ to worry about.

“ _If̢͘ ̕͠y̷̵ou̢ r̷̨͘ea͝lly̵͘ k̵͢͡҉͘k̶͟͠͡k̢k̶̸̡̕͟ t̕͟͢h͢i͘n͘͘k͏͏ ̡͜s͟͝o͞͠.̷͠_ ”

I walk a little faster.

“Are you real, or what?” I ask, hesitant. Is encouraging this really a good idea?

“ _R̕e͠a̴̕l̵͘ ͞e̛͟n̶͜ǫ͡u̸gḩ̨͏,̨_ ” it says briskly. “ _I̴͜n̵ ̛͟t͠ḩ̛i͏s ͢͝u͢n̕͢͢i̶v̷͞e͞͝r̵s̴͜e,͟ ͡a̡t͠ ̧͘͏le͞a͟s̨t҉.҉_ ”

“That’s exactly what I’d expect a voice in my head to say.” I shake my head. “I assume you aren’t just going to fade away, though.”

“ _I̢'͟m̵̛ ͢n͘ot͠._ ”

It doesn’t defend itself or elaborate. In the relative silence, a soft buzz teases my ears. It’s coming from the same place as the voice, just behind me to the left. It’s looking more and more like I have to get used to a permanent headache.

I scratch my arm through my jacket as a distraction. I can’t quite get the itch to go away, and the pounding in my head hardly helps.

I finally round the corner to the corridor holding the solitary cells and something feels wrong. I can’t put my finger on it, but—

“ _W͜͏̧h͢a̴̢t̴͜ d̵̨͢o͞͝ y͡͞o̸͟u ͟҉r̕͝e͡m͡em̷b̴͞eŗ ̢f͠rơ҉m y̧̧o̢͘ųr͝ ͘͢͠t̶͞i̧̡m͢e͜ aw͟͡a̢͏y̨͏?_ ”

A spike of pain wedges itself in my frontal lobe. I hiss a breath, but I can’t stop moving. There’s something _wrong_.

 

“ _W̕͝h̛͏y̵ ҉̢do̵͘ ͏yo͝u̶̸ k̵͢͡҉͘k̶͟͠͡k̢k̶̸̡̕͟  h͏a͡t̢͜e̶͝ k̵͢͡҉͘k̶͟͠͡k̢k̶̸̡̕͟ C̡̨̻̤͚̳͓̦̬̰͒͋ͤ̈ͨͦ̃̾̀̓ͨ͌̅͗͛͐̏̆̕͘ö̢̜͈̮̳͇̝̬̱̙̖͍̮̥̫̆͌ͬ̊͑̃̔͆̄̕͡n̈́̃̾͂̽͗̾͑̍̎͋͒҉͏͓̲͇͕̘̯͚̳̰̗͔͚̣ͅn̐̏̿̅ͨͥ̇̐̓̾̽͏̸̛̣͉̞̮͇͉̪͈͚̣̪̘͇͠o̷̯͖̗̬͎̘̞̩͍̽ͦ̅͗͒̅͂̽̀̑͐ͤͫ͋̓̏ͭ̕ȑ̺̮̝̻̩̞̲̬̱̮ͭ̿̉́ͤ̊ͦ̕ͅ ̀ͪͪ̐̄͋̍͊̇̆̄͊̆̈́̓̂̀͞҉̡͚̤̫̤̻̞̝̦͡S̵̝̜͎͚̝̰̥͔͔̲͖̹̫̞̅͗̉ͩͩ̑̒ͪͪ̍ͮ̇̿̀ͯ̅̋͟͞a̢̟̗̺̞͇̫͉̰͍̩̎͑ͪ̊ͥ̂̐ͣ̑̈́͝͝w̸̡̝̘͔͚͖̮̤̰̠̜̩͖̜̝̗̘̭̹̆̾̈̑͊́̈͐̉͗̋̋ͮ͠y̵̶̘̹̱̗̙̘͇̗̳̺͓̖̟͍͈ͥ͌͋ͦ͌ͯ̾ͪͭ̕͡e̍̏ͧ̃͛͆ͮ̔̔͒ͭ͗̈́ͤ͢҉̷̫͚͕̹͙̜̥̣͕͔̪̭͈̩̗͞͠ṙ̌̌͛ͦ҉̛̫͙̰̞͘_ ”

 

“It’s none of your business!” It comes out as a growl, and I finally have to stop with a hand against the wall to quell the red wall of anger threatening to blot out my vision. “I told you to go away, didn’t I?”

“ _Y̷͠o͠u ̡͞di̡̢̕d̸̢.͜͡_ ”

The buzz doesn’t go anywhere, though, nor the feeling of someone standing over my shoulder. I don’t even know what I’m mad at anymore. The voice? The inmates?

“ _C͜r͠҉͜os͞͝s͜?͞_ ”

I spin around, but the presence stays firmly attached to the space behind me. What can I do to it, if it isn’t even really here? I can tell it to leave, even if it won’t, or I can argue with it over and over until I get like _this_?

I’ll take the third and easiest option. Ignore it.

I take a breath. It’s a problem I can’t worry about right now.

I turn and walk the remaining few yards to the solitary cells. I know what was so wrong about it all. The levers are all the wrong way, all unlocked. I open one of them, though I don’t need to to guess what’s happened.

All three of the escaped inmates have disappeared on my watch.


	7. Rules Are Made to be Broken

~-S-~

I rewind the feed again in the hopes that how they got out might become clearer.

Every monitor turns to static, white noise obscures everything useful. I check before the glitch to find nothing out of the ordinary. After a four minute period without video, the three inmates duck into the infirmary to free two of their coconspiritors.

There’s no sign of anyone entering or leaving Cross’s office after we left to spar. They just stopped working for four minutes.

I let it play this time to track the five of them through the compound. They don’t explore or hesitate once, they run directly back to the cavern beyond the South Door. Back to where Cross found them.

They pause next to the cave wall.

And they’re gone.

I furrow my brows and roll it back to watch it again.

The feed’s too blurry to see exactly what it is, but there must be an opening in the wall here. They duck inside and seem to vanish altogether. They’ve disappeared into the tunnels again.

On my way out, I trigger my com.

“I know where the inmates are. I’m in pursuit.”

A response I don’t expect comes immediately.

“ _Stay where you are,_ ” Cross demands. “ _They will be returning shortly._ ”

I stop at the fork in the hall that leads to either the infirmary or the southern door. I think about it. How can he be so sure? Not that they’ll get the punishment they deserve, but that they’ll be _back?_

I tap the com.

“I won’t be long.”

I rip the com from my collar and drop it on the ground before setting off toward the tunnels. I still hear the static, a tinny scream, but I don’t look back. I can ask forgiveness later. Whether it will be granted is questionable, but leaving the inmates out there isn’t something I can do.

Further down the hall, the echo of another com approaches. Cross’s voice snakes toward me, the apparent distance doing nothing to mute the fury in his voice.

“ _... south door, to be detained on sight. Do not let her leave the compound._ ”

I pause and glance at a doorway halfway between where I stand and the corner I’m approaching. I consider running for a split second. I could hide in the room, stay out of sight. The thought is infantile at best, and useless at worst. The voice acknowledging the order is much too close for me to hide from.

Instead, I continue down the hall with my head held high as the soldier rounds the corner.

He drags a rat’s carcass behind him and hesitates when he sees me. His free hand jerks toward his collar. Then his hand drops, a strange resolve in his eyes, and he stands aside to allow me by.

I hesitate. He’s ignoring a direct order from Cross. He jerks his head the way he came, a signal to continue. I don’t need to be told twice.

As I pass, he flashes me a knowing grin. Something is off, it feels like I’m missing half of the exchange.

The moment passes and we go our separate ways. I can’t afford to puzzle over a soldier’s motives. I’ll be in hot water of my own when I return to the compound.

The broken door at the southern edge of the prison opens into a cavern still lit with spotlights. The walls, being carved from rough stone, aren’t smooth or uniform. Scars and clefts dot them on every side.

I don’t see the tunnel beyond until I duck underneath one of them. From far away, it just looks like a normal shadow. It’s too dark to see in at first, but the nectar soon accommodates to turn the inky darkness into a hazy twilight.

I consider, for a moment, taking Cross up on his offer to alter my eyes.

The cramped cave almost feels like a dead end, but it can’t be. I peer behind a pile of boulders, run my hands along the walls, until I spot a ridge at the top of the sloped side of the chamber.

Divots and ridges pockmark the wall. I hardly consider it before I start the climb.

“ _Stǫp̛. L͘is̨te͠n._ ”

Surprise at hearing the voice for the first time since I discovered the inmates missing halts me more than its quiet command. I do press myself close to the wall, though, and strain my ears. If I had continued, my focus on my grip, I might not have heard them coming.

“I don’t know why—”

♥️♥️♥️ **C** ♥️♥️♥️

“—you’re worried about them,” Simon grumbles. “If they catch us we’re dead, same as the warden.”

“I know,” I say, voice low. “But this means the game is different to Cross now. It certainly isn’t about stopping us.”

“Yeah, I get it, but what Cross wants isn’t important right now. Focus on getting out and we might be able to avoid him completely.” Stubbornness makes him sound childish, like he’s trying to convince himself.

“But if we get caught? Then it’s all that matters. Personally, I’m starting to think—”

“It don’t matter,” Kevin declares.

Several murmurs of agreement follow, and I shake my head. We stop at the edge of the ridge. No one makes a move to go down first.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have had Alex do it this time,” Zee frets. “He’s always the bait.”

“He lost,” I say drily.

“Still, it doesn’t seem—”

“What, _fair?_ Nothing about this is fair,” I counter. “Let’s just go.”

I drop to my knees and ease myself down the angled wall. Something has me on edge, and it tastes different than garden variety fear. It’s not coming from me, not from my friends.

Am I close enough to feel what Sawyer’s feeling, even now that they’ve cut me off? But, then, why would they be afraid?

I pause and peer down at the crack in the wall. Shadows dip and sway, so I assume Cross has his search party out there for us. He’s waiting to tear us apart, but that doesn’t help me at all.

“Find her,” Cross barks.

I freeze.

“Wait!” Simon hisses above my head.

“The rest of the prison is secure, but this cavern will be full of rats in mere minutes.” Cross pauses, drumming footsteps begin. “She must be back in the compound by then.”

“Perry’s in the tunnels?” Kevin whispers.

“Who’s the fastest runner?” Donovan this time, his voice louder than I would prefer. We’re wasting time.

“It doesn’t matter, I’ll do it,” I say, eyes already closed.

I send my awareness directly through the rock. It doesn’t take long to find the Steeple, to find Alex on the outcropping with his flashlight pointed up.

“Come _on_ , lazy pieces of shit, I’m ready to get out of this prison!” He bellows before I can stop him.

In the wake of his cry, the thick silence could kill me. I follow his flashlight. I hardly dare to breathe.

One pair of silver eyes appears above. Then another, a horde of rats descending from above.

I open my eyes back on the rock wall just as the others are beginning to retreat back into the tunnels. I can’t keep my grip on the wall, but I have enough control over my lungs to warn them.

“It’s too late!” I shriek, suspended in the air. “The rats!”

The scream of a rat in the distance chills my blood.

I hit the ground.

My head cracks against the solid rock. Lights pop in my vision, but I manage to roll onto my hands and knees. Everything hurts.

I look up to the crack in the wall to find Cross much too close for my liking. Fury twists his features, but he’s not looking at me.

The fear siphoning into my head shifts and Sawyer streaks out from behind the boulders I’m supposed to be hiding behind. I call out to them, beg them to wait. They don’t even look back when they duck into the brightly lit cavern beyond.

Hands seize me and drag me forward. The others must have made it down. I have to resist the urge to follow Sawyer when we press behind the boulders in a pile.

Cross has fled already, though Sawyer stands stock still in the entrance to the prison. They watch a line of blacksuits, who salute them before turning their guns our way. That’s six of them, all in a line, loyal to us and our plans.

Six loyal blacksuits about to die.

Sawyer turns tail just as Alex dives behind the boulder with us. The rats follow in moments, a shot ringing out when the first of them barrels into the cavern.

~-S-~

The inmates were talking about me. I already know they know me, but one went so far as to call after me.

Cross leans against his desk, his impatience evident. His glare bores into me, but I merely shrug. He straightens up as I pass, as I ignore him in favor of the security room

The rats have decimated the soldiers in the cavern already. I stare at the crack in the wall, still barely visible on the black and white screen. Cross clears his throat, but I barely spare him a glance.

My fingers dig at an itch on my arm. None of this is right.

“When this is over—”

“Tear my throat out later,” I grumble. “We still have specimens in the tunnels.”

Arnold thought I would let him out of the infirmary.

“The situation was under control,” Cross volleys back. “I was a fool to think you had learned to follow orders.”

Cross knew the inmates would return. How?

“Your orders don’t make any sense!”

A blurred group flashes from the crack, across the screen. I immediately turn to leave the room, but Cross catches my arm before I get very far. Still, I glare at the door instead of him.

“Let me go.”

I know he won’t. He’s already furious enough without me goading him.

“Listen to me.” His grip tightens, and I finally look him in the eyes.

Cold fire streaks through my blood, through the nectar. Flickering images, old memories of war torn fields and broken soldiers overlay my vision. I don’t look away until he jostles me.

“ _I_ will retrieve the escaped inmates,” He snarls. “Wait here until I come back to deliver your punishment. Do you understand?”

Footsteps thunder past in the corridor outside. Every part of me screams to go after them, but I’m stuck here with Cross.

Even so, I nod. He doesn’t seem ready to take that as an answer. He tightens his grip further and a jolt of pain shoots up my arm. I wince.

“Yes. I understand.”

He shoves me back and lets go. I stumble into the wall and watch him stalk from the room. I don’t know what he’s going to choose for my punishment, but it sure as hell isn’t going to be good.

So, I cross to the chair in front of Cross’s desk, take a seat, and wait. Something is very wrong here, but I can’t put my finger on it. I scratch my arm and allow my eyes to wander.

I look up at the flag behind the desk and examine the insignia of Furnace Penitentiary. Three circles connected by a triangle, it’s supposed to be an honor to wear it. The longer I look at it, the more uneasy I become. I only look away when the headache I’ve come to associate with the voice in my head flares up.

“ _W̸͠h҉a̡͢t͏͟ ̡̕͢a͟͠r̕͞͡͝e̶̷̵ ̶̵̛͡y҉ơ͘u̸̧ ̴̡d͜o̷̡͘͝͞i̡̛n̶̛̛g̵?̶_ ”

I nearly jump out of my skin. The panic of the presence to my left doesn’t help. I twist around, but there’s still nothing there. I don’t like that I’m feeling emotions from it now.

I face forward again and huff.

“What do you mean?”

“ _Y̶o͜u̕͏r͘̕ k̵͢͡҉͘k̶͟͠͡k̢k̶̸̡̕͟ a̕͠r̵m._ ”

I have to strain my ears to hear it this time, but I look down on impulse when it registers. Nectar sticks under my fingernails. I lift my right hand and study the glittering violet and black until I realize what it means.

My jacket sleeve is damp, and on closer inspection the fabric has been torn to shreds. I pull it up to reveal a black stain on my shirt and, beneath that, long tracks of claw marks up my forearm. Nectar clogs the scratches, fresh scabs dotting the skin like scales.

I didn’t even feel it.

“Keep your pants on,” I mutter. “Are you gonna yell at me, too?”

“ _N͢o̸.̡_ ”

“What is it, then?”

Only a faint residue of liquid nectar remains on my arm. I roll my sleeve back down and wipe my hand on my jacket while the voice struggles to piece together a sentence between bursts of static.

 

“ _Y̴̨o̴͡u͏͞ k̵͢͡҉͘k̶͟͠͡k̢k̶̸̡̕͟ d͞ese̸ŗ͏v͏e̢ ̨͟b̛͜e̶̢tter̕ ̵t̢̡h̨͞an̛̕ k̵͢͡҉͘k̶͟͠͡k̢k̶̸̡̕͟  C̷̯̗̗̖̺̜͈̮̙̋̎̆͛̾̓̌͒̈́͑̀͘r̡̛ͪ͗͋̂̒ͫͤ̚҉̧̣̞̫̦͉̭̩̭͟o̮̫̬̰͚̰̖̳̪̩̤͎̰ͫ̒͆ͩ̌̈́͐̓̏ͯͥ̄ͦ̍̋̅͘͢͝ͅs̞̬̫̹̬̠̼͙̗̏ͣͣͩ͜s̶̢̛̯͎͚̥͙̙͇̲̰̝̟͈̼̖̟ͫ̐̓̀ͨ̿̍ͥ̐̐̔͊ͩ͢ k̵͢͡҉͘k̶͟͠͡k̢k̶̸̡̕͟ h͞i͡d͞in̸̛g̡͝͡ ͏thin̛͞gs̛͢҉.̵͢͜_ ”

 

“How would you know if Cross is hiding _anything_ from me?” I shoot back. I rub my temples, though I know the headache isn’t going anywhere.

“ _I҉ ͘͜kn̴o͟͜w̴̡ k̵͢͡҉͘k̶͟͠͡k̢k̶̸̡̕͟ m̢o͢r͏e͏ ҉̶th̛an k̵͢͡҉͘k̶͟͠͡k̢k̶̸̡̕͟ y̴̶o͠͞u d̷o.͏_ ”

I shoot a glare over my shoulder and hunch further down. I wish it would just leave. I’m in enough trouble without getting distracted.

“If you know so much, why do you sound like a broken radio?”

“ _I̶͜'m̢ k̵͢͡҉͘k̶͟͠͡k̢k̶̸̡̕͟ br̵ea͡kį̕n̕͢g̡ k̵͢͡҉͘k̶͟͠͡k̢k̶̸̡̕͟ t̵̛͟h̵̡e̕͢ ͝r͏̛u̴les̴̡._ ”

_Rules?_

It doesn’t clarify at all. In fact, it stays completely silent

Rude.

Still, there have been some fishy things.

Cross had to have known about the first escape attempt. He had the inmate files ready so quickly. He didn’t seem upset in the least; in fact, he looked like he was having a great time.

He also didn’t seem very bothered that the inmates escaped the second time, only losing his temper when I didn’t listen to him. He sent the suits after _me_ rather than the prisoners.

Not to mention, he _knew_ the rats were going to attack!

“ _W̡̛͞h͏̕a̢̢t̕͏ ҉̵͟d̷͝o̵͡ ͡y̴o͡u ͏̵̶r͡e̸̛҉m̶̕e҉͞m̸̡͟b̸̢͝er̢ ͜͠f̡ro̢͏m͡ y҉̶͞o̢͞u͠r̷̕ ̕t̕i̛m̵e ͜a̶̕w̵̛a̴͟y̵̛҉?_ ”

I straighten up and, for once, try to remember.

The last thing I remember before coming here was—what? Working in the prison? Fussing with the nectar in the lab? Nothing really jumps out as the _last_ thing I did, just that these are things that happened.

I remember being scared, weak, out of control, but there isn’t anything actually attached to that. Just the dark, the pounding in my chest. I don’t know what was happening or where I was.

Then there’s the anger. The hate the nectar now feeds on when I think about—

 

“ _T̕͢e͏l̡̡l͟ me͡. ̨̛W̸̨h̵̨y ̴̷̨d̴̛ǫ̵͡ y͘͡o͜u h͢a̴̧͢te̷̵ C̸̸̮̜͓͙̪̹̦̱̝̘̻͎̬ͨ̈́̾ͬͯ͆̾͊̈̎̒͌͑ͣ͛o͌̍̈́ͬ͋҉͚̯̟̥͍͙̮̜͎̫͉̬̱͞ͅͅn̷̸̅ͥ͊̍̃ͨ͑̀̇ͫ͒ͦ̆̽̈̐ͩ̉҉͇̗̙̳͉͇͚̙̘n̨̬̜͎͉͍̱̼͙͎̘̙̟͚͇͖͊͒̄ͧ̅͛͒ͣ̅̊ͬ̑͒͌̂̚̚̕oͯ̊̏̃̒ͬ̅̅̍̃͑̂́̋̎ͤ҉͏̛͏̛͚͈̱̣r̴̳̪͕͎̫̜͓̹̝̊̓̆̒͑͌͜ͅͅ ̛̖̟͚̭͎̮̗̂ͬ̈́ͥͮ̽̓̌̋ͣ̊̚͝S͌̑̌ͣ̈ͤͥ̋̊͛̏̋͗ͨ́ͧͫ̚͢҉̗͚̩͓̮̜̭̤̯̘͎̦̠͉ͅa̸̺̦̰̠̦̻̫͖͓̻ͤ̂͋̿ͮ̉̽͆͊̍̄ͬ́̉̊͒ͪ̕͢͡w̧̘̲̟̘̠̲̘̮͈̉̊ͣ͌ͨ́̔ͩͦͮ̐̎̀ͫ͗̐͆̄y̒̀̒̎̅̇́̌̽͗ͣ̅̎̎̚҉̡҉̣̰̮̺̲͚͚̝͟e̴̡̢̘̟̯̰̺̜͔̹̖̳̪̹ͪ͛ͮ̏͗̔ͬͦͭ̃ͣͮ͊̔̊̍̓̒͘͜rͫͣ̈͒ͥ҉҉̳̣̟̞̦͕͓̲͇̮̭͔̩̪̞͘ͅ.͜_ ”

 

For a moment—one, terrifying moment—I don’t know.

I shake my head and the simpering nostalgia clears away. I need to go to the screening rooms. Maybe the voice will go away then.

The voice asks again, a little clearer.

This time, anger sears my skin.

“He wants to ruin everything. The world will be a better place when we’re done, and he has this one chance to be a part of it. It’s not my fault if he throws it away.”

The voice sighs.

“ _I̧ ͏th̵̴̨o͏u͡͏g͘h̶̸t̛ ̴͠we͜ w̶͢e̸r͡e̡͜ k̵͢͡҉͘k̶͟͠͡k̢k̶̸̡̕͟ m̸͏ak̨͡i̕n͟g͡͡.҉ k̵͢͡҉͘k̶͟͠͡k̢k̶̸̡̕͟ p̢͜͠r̢o͢gr̕e̛͡s̛͝s̛.҉_ ”

And it disappears.

I wait in silence.


	8. Maybe This is How it Was Meant to be

♥️♥️♥️ **C** ♥️♥️♥️

If Sawyer ever brings up the idea of coming back to Furnace when we’re done here, I’m going to kill them. My head’s still messed up from their wisps of fear and anger I still can’t shake. The crimson light of the infirmary doesn’t help, though we don’t linger long.

Beyond, surgery amphitheatres dot the walls. I don’t look to find out which ones contain wheezers, which ones have children being cut into. I just need to get to the end of this hall.

I don’t even know what I would do if we managed to get to the surface now. Would the rest of the game continue? Would we have to face the might of Furnace and his creations without the help of nectar?

I’m more scared to find out than I am of Cross and the new nectar, but I follow behind my friends and keep my mouth shut. There’s no point in telling them that they’re wrong.

At a three-way junction, we continue straight ahead. An iron door waits at the end, heavy and unyielding. We normally sneak in and try to climb the chimney. It’s the perfect size for us to climb, aside from being about a mile straight up. The roar on the other side of the door tells me we’re not going to be able to do that this time.

The furnace is on. I hate that I’m relieved, but all I can think is that I’m happy not to climb up there. Ecstatic not to have to end up burned alive to move forward.

“I ain’t going back there,” Kevin insists when I stop behind the rest. “I’ll die first.”

“Better do it quick, then,” I say. “There’s nowhere else for us to go.”

Kevin glares at me. He lunges through the group to shove me back, but it’s all for show. His only options are the infirmary or death.

“This is _your fault_.” He levels a finger at my chest. “We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you.”

“You agreed to come,” I growl. “I didn’t make anyone do anything!”

I didn’t make anyone do anything.

“We weren’t expecting this.” Alex tugs on the door to the furnace, though I’m not sure what he would do if it actually opened. “It’s worse than last time.”

“No one expected this. If I had known—” I look back down the hall at a shout. Cross is coming. I continue in a rushed hiss. “If I’d known it would turn out like this, I never would have asked.”

“Fat lotta good that does us now.” Donovan drags Kevin back by the back of his uniform. “Unless you got a better plan than the usual one, keep your mouth shut.”

“But that blue stuff—”

“We’ll be fine,” I promise. I think of how many times I’ve heard Sawyer say something similar, how many times it turned out to be a lie for them. “There’s nothing else we can do, unless you’re down for a suicide pact.”

“That truly would be something.”

I spin around to see Cross standing at the end of the hall with an entourage of blacksuits behind him. Several look less than happy, but the bulk of them grin those half moons that I’m starting to fear again.

“Cross,” Zee gasps, so quiet I barely hear it.

Cross, however, beams cruelly.

“Quite. You know what comes next.” He raises a hand and the blacksuits come forward in a rush. “The time to run is over.”

I expect a vice grip on my arm, but the suits part around me like water. They grab hold of my friends, who all fight tooth and nail. I still have to watch the five of them get dragged back past Cross.

To the infirmary.

He strolls closer with his hands in his pockets.

I wish I could say I’m not terrified. My brain can’t decide between flight and freeze, so I manage a half-step back. All it earns is a broader grin.

“You certainly have my prized specimen in a mood,” he notes. His voice is too light, it trips every alarm I have. “It’s hard to believe you used to be so close.”

Sawyer.

I keep my jaw clenched shut. I can’t give him a reason to kill me. Virtuoso warned me of that.

“Without her leading your merry band, I suppose that makes _you_ the competition.” He stops barely a yard away. His smile reeks of malice. It takes me a few beats to decide he wants a response.

“It doesn’t change anything,” I choke out. “You won’t keep them forever.”

If possible, the corners of his smile broaden further.

“I don’t expect to. She seems to have plenty of pent up aggression toward you, however.” He taps his chin, making a show of thoughtfulness. “I doubt she would need much prompting to take your life if the opportunity arose.”

His words drench me like ice water. My muscles lock and it takes every ounce of concentration I have to keep my breathing level.

“I’m sure you know what you have to do to avoid that regrettable outcome.”

 _Regrettable outcome_.

He jerks his head and turns back down the hall. I only hesitate as long as it takes to realize he’s inviting me to follow before I do. It’s clever, using them against me.

I trail behind him without a word. There’s no point in fighting. I need the nectar to stand a chance against him or any of Furnace’s creatures. I know that. He knows that.

He still leads me at a leisurely pace along the hall back to the infirmary. He’s leading me directly to what I want. He hasn’t changed the way he reacts to our plans, he’s letting us through without any resistance.

But he doesn’t know about the pieces of us I sealed in our consciousnesses. He doesn’t know—I hope—about Virtuoso and their warnings. He can’t know.

We can do this. I can do this. I have to swallow everything else down and know that we _will_ get out of this prison.

With that in mind, I push past the plastic slats into the red light of the infirmary. I follow Cross through a curtain to an empty cot. At his indication, I climb onto the bed with a bad taste in my mouth.

Cross moves to leave but pauses with a hand on the stained fabric.

“Remember: Obedience is the difference between life and death in _my_ prison.”

He whisks out without another word, without waiting for a response. A wheezer takes his place in an instant, and I lie back and stare at the ceiling. I don’t want to see this.

The sharp sting of a needle in my arm leads to my vision falling away. I think I’m still conscious, somewhere, but I don’t know where that is. I beat down the instinct to fight back.

I have to do what Cross says, for now.

He’ll get what’s coming to him soon enough.

???V???

“At least he didn’t get himself killed.”

I glare up at the glowing splinter. It shrugs and drops down to stand next to me. It rests a hand on my shoulder. I don’t turn away from my screens, all paused on various people and locations.

“There’s nothing I can do for him now,” I say eventually. “Chip away at Sawyer, maybe, but I can’t interfere with nectar.”

It pats my shoulder with a soft sound in its throat.

“Just keep up what you’re doing. Put your calculations to use, plan for different possibilities.”

I shrug it off and void the screens. I may as well let the universe run on its own. No matter what I’ve tried, I can’t affect how the nectar changes its hosts. Not to mention, if I keep pushing at Sawyer with my recycled phrases they might shove me out.

I can’t afford to start over at this point.

“My offer to help is still on the table.”

I jerk around to find the splinter still standing there. It normally flits off when I turn it away. Now, though, its brows crease in an uncharacteristically serious frown.

“I can do this,” I mutter.

“I know.” It dips its head in a nod. It takes me aback. It’s never agreed with that before. “But I could make it easier. Set all the limits you want, make rules for me, whatever.”

It shrugs and finally tucks its legs up to its chest to float. It doesn’t leave, though it looks away.

“I’m scared for them, too,” it says.

I’m saved from needing to answer by the door to the outside appearing so close it almost knocks me over. The splinter shakes its head and drifts off to the edge of our living area.

“Hey, kid, how goes running the world?”

I turn to the door and frown. Kane has come to speak to me several times now, keeping me aware of the world outside. It gives me some idea of how urgent getting out is. So far, we aren’t high on the priority list.

“Nothing is going right, but that’s nothing new.” I sigh. “Do you have news, then?”

“Jess wants to talk to you.”

I grimace. The real one is the last person I should be talking to.

“No.”

He makes a noncommittal sound and the thud of a body slumping against the door follows. I lean my head against the door. This is the closest I’ve ever been to the actual Cube.

“I figured I would ask.” The distinct sound of shuffling paper drifts through the door. “As for news: Jess is on with the Scouts again. I’m keeping an eye out, but she could use something to stabilize her.”

“They’ll kill you eventually if you keep using the wrong pronouns, you know.”

He barks a laugh.

“Well, you know,” he says with a smile in his voice. “If they ever actually ask me, I’ll be more than happy to comply.”

I shake my head but leave it alone. They’ll tear his head off anyway if he’s not careful.

“I’m trying to find a way to let Connor project himself through the door, since it doesn’t look like they have any intention of finishing this daydream soon,” I say.

“With how things are looking around here, that might not actually be the best idea.”

I pause. I didn’t think Connor’s presence could be considered a bad thing as far as Jess is concerned. I consider asking why, but he would say if he had any intention of telling me.

“Is there more?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

“Hey, is everyone else doing okay?”

I jump and turn to find the splinter hovering just behind me. Kane makes a surprised sound.

“Hello to you, too. I don’t follow gossip much—”

“That’s bullshit and we both know it.”

I stare at the splinter, the testiness in its voice unfamiliar. It smiles, though, an excited expression trying to be a smirk.

He sighs.

“I dunno what you want me to say, kid.” He sounds more genuine now. It’s like talking to different people. “It’d take days to list out all the drama around here.”

The splinter presses closer and rests a hand against the door. The wood warps, and for a second I think it might break out. It doesn’t make any real change on the door, though, and it eventually pats the surface.

“I’ll just have to pick your brain when I get back, then.”

I look at the splinter, and its smile has turned into a bitter scowl. It doesn’t match its light tone. I wonder if Kane looks the same when his equally cheery response comes on the other side.

“Sure thing, kid.”

The door disappears. The splinter keeps its hand up, eyes closed, for several seconds before letting it drop to its side.

I’ve never been to the Cube. I don’t have friends or relationships to have left. I know about everyone in an abstract sense. The knowledge is there, but I don’t know them. Kane’s the only person out there I’ve even talked to.

But this splinter was a part of a version of Jess that remembers being out there. Sure, it’s technically a piece of them that has never set foot in the Cube either, but it remembers being there. It remembers everyone, it remembers being surrounded by people.

It has a home to go to.

After a few minutes, it swings its head around. Its signature, tired smile is nowhere to be found. It watches me warily.

I haven’t been treating this splinter of Sawyer very well at all.

“Fine.”

It perks up and tilts its head.

“‘Fine,’ what?”

I shrug and turn away. My screens pop back up without prompting.

“When Cross finding out about us poses no danger—after Connor’s final test, maybe—you can help.” It gasps, but I plow on. “There will be rules, but the two of us together will get this done much faster, right?”

Arms wrap around my middle. I manage to hold in the gasp that wants to startle past my lips. The splinter presses its head against the back of my shoulder and squeezes tight.

I pat its arms awkwardly, unsure of how to respond. It withdraws within seconds, and I don’t have to look to know it’s vanished into the ether.

I try to focus on the universe we’re supposed to take care of. I have to figure out how to outline the rules to keep the splinter from overstepping our bounds. With how creative Sawyer—Jess, whichever name is more fitting—can get in dodging rules of a universe, I have to be extremely careful.

With how long it’s been since Jess moved the universe forward, I have a feeling I’ll have a long time to think.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end of Solitary. You can find me on tumblr as panticwritten!


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